Friends Like These
by CalliopeMused
Summary: .AU. Victor Stone just wanted a chance at the career he deserved. He didn’t know his shot would come with a genie, a car accident, an alien, a demon, and an inconvenient hostage crisis. Rookie and Desert Phoenix remix.
1. Chapter 1

_For everyone that wanted a continuation of Rookie or Desert Phoenix: this is the closest that I'll get. I've tried to finish the other stories, and it just won't happen. Personal reasons. _

_This story has been undergoing revisions to the plot for over a year. I'm assuming basic knowledge of the characters for this plot to work smoothly (real names, powers, a little about their background), but will try to give some introduction for each character. My canon background is going to be eclectic. The cartoon is the main source, but I'll draw on facts from the comics, modern biological research, history, mythology, and whatever else adds to the plot. _

_I try to reply to all reviews, but if your entire review is 'great chapter!' I won't have much to say. Let me know what worked and what didn't.  
_

_This story is for all the annoying people who refused to give up and let me be a 24/7 science geek. (Thank you.) _

**Chapter One**

**Friday June 12, 11:48 P.M. **  
Jump City's small airport was busy, even at the late hour. Three flights had just arrived, and the crowd of passengers was moving slowly towards the baggage claim area. Two bleary-eyed passengers barely noticed the other people. After a nonstop flight from London to Los Angeles, they had sprinted across LAX to catch their connecting plane. Garfield Logan and Victor Stone were back in Jump City, and things like crowds were not nearly as important as catching up on sleep.

The terminal was packed with people, but they still had a little room to move. Strangers to Jump City had never heard of Dr. Mark and Marie Logan's only son. They saw that Garfield was solid green, and tended to leave space in case he was contagious. Jump City natives weren't nearly so cautious. Locals knew him by name, and Garfield tried to return the favor. The odds were against him, but that had never stopped him before.

"Garfield! How was London?"

Garfield saw an airport security officer waving to him. He pushed through the crowd in her direction, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to make sure he hadn't lost Victor. He ducked under the rope stretched to the side of the VIP lounge area, reasoning that she'd waved to him first.

"I didn't see anything but science this time, Kathleen. The conference kept us running from one presentation to the other."

"You and your friend look exhausted." She had been guarding a small opening in the roped-off area, but stepped aside so Victor could pass through. "Your parents have been on our VIP list since their flight to Stockholm."

Garfield grinned. "Hey, winning a Nobel is good for something! Thanks, Kathleen. The shortcut will help us get home before Victor bites someone's head off." She went back to her post, and Garfield and Victor walked into the wide, quiet corridor that never became crowded. Garfield glanced over his shoulder again. Usually, Victor would introduce himself when Gar was talking to one of the many Jump City citizens that recognized Gar by the green.

Victor hadn't been able to catch a few hours of sleep on the plane. He needed an electrical outlet, which wasn't provided on planes.

Running across an airport had not agreed with Victor Stone. He had given up on endurance running years ago. Most of his body was cybernetic, metal, and extremely heavy. Beyond that, he had gone thirty-one hours without recharging. Theoretically, he could go thirty-eight without impairing function and ninety-six hours before switching solely to vital functions. After this experiment, he didn't want to test it.

"Low batteries?" Garfield teased.

"Literally." Victor was too tired to be annoyed. "My body's fine, my brain is tired." He didn't say anything more. As far as anyone could tell, he was a completely normal twenty-two year old man who happened to have a pea-green best friend. Unless someone in the crowd had come in direct contact with him, they'd never know that most of his skin had been replaced with metal. One of his first inventions had been a hologram generator that worked through two thick rings. It showed how he would look if an accident in his father's lab hadn't put him in intensive care. The fourth and current model was an imitation of his class ring, and the fifth would be a part of his CPU. If the illusion was internal, he couldn't lose the ring or forget to change the hologram generator's batteries.

They passed a secluded lounge in the quiet hallway. Victor kept walking, but Garfield couldn't help looking. To his disappointment, there were no movie stars or famous people. The lounge area of the airport was only available to the famous and the rich, but Garfield wasn't interested in the rich. He was almost past the room when his internal tally came up strange.

Two dark-haired people in the back corner of the room had been speaking quietly, while a very competent-looking bodyguard in a purple tube top and miniskirt had been watching the hallway with her arms crossed. The miniskirt combo wasn't all that surprising, and the orange skin could have been a horrible accident with a self-tanner, but—

Victor tugged on his arm. "I thought the plan was to go home, grass stain. Let's go."

"Victor, the girl in the room was floating!"

"And you say my batteries are low. Move, Gar." Victor didn't slow as he continued to walk down the hallway.

Garfield gave up when Victor almost tugged him into someone with spiky black hair. "Excuse me, my friend's cranky when needs his beauty sleep," Gar said.

"No problem. Do you know where I can get reception?" The man pulled a cell phone from his suit pocket. "My personal phone would get better reception, but my company likes to keep business and private lines separate."

"Where are you calling?"

"Gotham."

Garfield checked his watch. "Isn't it about four in the morning there?"

The stranger grinned. "My boss keeps weird hours. He's up."

Garfield really wanted to ask, but Victor really wanted to leave. Being the considerate friend won out, mostly because Victor was not a night owl unless he was fully charged. "I'd try using the lounge, closer to the south side."

"Thanks."

"You're boring when you're tired, you know that?" Gar asked Victor when the guy in the suit had left.

"And the easiest way to fix that…"

"Is to head to the baggage claim and go to the car and go home," Garfield recited, already bored. He didn't like being bored. If he was bored, he had time to think. If he had time to think, he started to wonder if he shouldn't be bored so often. He loved his parents, and understood that the research they did was extremely important, but he didn't love research. He was tired of working with DNA. All the protocols ever involved were clear liquids, and maybe some blue once in a while.

Caught up in a daydream about whether lab work would be improved with red and yellow food coloring, Garfield didn't notice when they rejoined the crowd at the baggage claim area until another Jump City native said hello. When he actually paid attention, several more people waved to him. His parents were Jump City's celebrities, but he was much easier to recognize on the street.

"I swear, half the city knows you," Victor said. "I would say that we could split up to make this faster, but I won't let you drive my car and don't think you want to pull two suitcases through all this."

"Once!"

"Once is enough, Garfield. You hit two mailboxes and a curb."

"You didn't tell me that there was a third pedal, and that it had something to do with rockets," Garfield retorted, his eyes on the suitcases. He wasn't sure who had come up with the idea to put a giant snaking conveyor belt in the baggage claim area, but the setup reminded Gar of a video game or a weird sushi restaurant. "I have a perfect record with normal cars."

"You didn't look at how many pedals there were, just like you didn't look at where the labels on the gear shift fell. You drive a beater car with an automatic transmission. You could run that thing into a wall and no one would be able to tell."

"At least I don't act like it's my girlfriend."

"Good thing, because that car's older than you."

Garfield changed the subject, since he wasn't going to win that argument. He could point out that Victor had made several incriminating statements about "his baby," but Victor had been on the last successful date. Any mentions of "baby" would lead straight into a public retelling of the Terra Disaster. Victor might even try imitating voices again.

"It's weird being back home. I was starting to get used to the accents after two weeks," Garfield said.

"The accents didn't bother me. Two weeks at a science conference was weird. I'll need time to get used to speaking English again."

"Instead of British English?"

"DNA biology's not my top subject, you know that. Two weeks of top-of-the-line DNA research was interesting, but I think any of the interns in the lab would have killed to be at that conference." Victor reached onto the conveyor belt and snagged Garfield's bag before his friend had noticed it. "Still, it's a job in research."

"Something in biomechanics will open up." Garfield was too tired to be very encouraging, but he did his best. "Your name will be at the top of the list, even if you don't patent the hologram generator until you're thirty."

"I've told you, Gar, it's—"

"Not ready," Gar chorused with Victor.

"It'd break you into any electronics research and development company," Garfield said. "DNA's not really my favorite topic, either. The research my parents are doing doesn't kill animals, but we're next to the top killer in STAR Labs. I feel like I know when they're having a kill day, even before I see anything."

"You've mentioned that. Would you stay in research?"

"Probably not. Short attention span, you know? I don't have to make money, my parents have more than they can track. I can do nonprofit work if I want, something with animals. I'm just getting cross-eyed looking at microcentrifuge tubes," Garfield admitted.

Victor grabbed his bag, which was considerably smaller than Garfield's. He had only brought a few tangible outfits, and generated the rest via hologram. All of his clothes had to be custom ordered, as no store in Jump City stocked clothing that fit his specifications. If he wasn't careful, clothes could become caught in the smaller metal joints. He checked over the condition of both suitcases briefly, using a few of the more selective modifications of his cybernetic eye. He was about to head towards the parking lot when someone tapped his elbow.

"Excuse me, but would you please help me find my bag? I've been looking for the last twenty minutes." The speaker was an Asian woman about his age. She smiled hopefully when she finished speaking, and Victor only hesitated for a moment.

"Sure," Victor said. "What color are we looking for?" Garfield gave him a thumbs up and pointed to one of the benches at the edges of the area. Gar even dragged the two suitcases with him, leaving Victor to search for luggage.

"It's bright red, but I've already seen a few in that shade. If it hasn't fallen off, a gold ribbon is tied to the handle."

His companion apologized several times during their half-hour search for her bag. Victor finally saw it across the concourse floor, leaning against a pillar. Someone had apparently taken the bag halfway to the exit before realizing that it was the wrong piece of luggage. Victor could see the telltale glint of gold ribbon, and he was at least as relieved as the woman with the missing bag.

"Thank you." She beamed at him, as if he had just passed some kind of test by finding a suitcase. "Will you please accept a small something? Half an hour of your time, when you obviously want to be home… it's worth a token of appreciation, at the very least."

"You're welcome, but it wasn't any trouble. Someone must have grabbed your bag by mistake."

The woman shook her head, and pulled a bright red box from the outer compartment of the wheeled red suitcase. It was tied with an equally red ribbon, and had no other markings. "Open this when you get home. You look like you could use some sleep."

Garfield dragged their bags over in time to hear the last few words. "I'll agree with that." He yawned, as if to second his own point. "You've done your good deed for the day, Victor, let's head home."

Victor was too tired to fight, or to insist that anyone else could have done the same. He accepted the box, which was large enough to cover the palm of his hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied with a smile. "Red is the color for good luck, in China, and you certainly deserve it. Good night, gentlemen."

"That's weird," Garfield pronounced when he and Victor were walking across the parking lot. "Nice, though. She gave you a present, and it smells okay."

"Nothing comes up strange on all the optical scanners I can run." Victor was still exhausted, even if his mind had taken the chance to think over a new puzzle. He would figure it out in the morning. "Ready to go?"

"Ready to _sleep_," Garfield said vehemently. "For a week."

Victor understood the feeling, but he wouldn't sleep for a week. He'd "sleep" for six hours, the same as always. The two-bedroom apartment they had shared since high school could more accurately be called a one-bedroom, one-workroom apartment. He would recharge for six hours, then start tinkering with one of his projects.

"I'm too tired for you to be brooding about stuff, Vic," Garfield complained as Victor loaded the suitcases into the back of the car. "I can't help you out if I can't walk in a straight line."

"I'll be better in the morning, Gar. Promise."

Garfield studied him when they both were in the T-car, finally heading back to the apartment. "Alright. If you aren't, I'll make a plan, and we both know what happened last time."

It was 1:39 A.M., they were both exhausted, and they both were still arguing about who had caused the apartment's second dishwasher to explode. By the time they reached the apartment at 1:52 A.M., they again agreed to disagree. They left the suitcases in the front room, and Victor left the bright red box on the kitchen counter.

**Saturday June 13, 2:08 A.M.**  
Both residents were fast asleep, and the doors to their bedrooms were tightly closed. Neither had noticed that the ribbon on the box had become lopsided during the trip from the airport, and neither would have cared. After a flash of light, however, the problem was remedied. A bright red box, tied neatly with a perfectly symmetric bright red bow, remained exactly where Victor Stone had set it on the counter.

The apartment was quiet enough to imagine the sound of an impatient genie tapping her foot.


	2. Chapter 2

_This chapter practically wrote itself, probably because I've had the idea in mind for nearly a year and a half. Have patience: the plot is building, and likely not in directions you're anticipating._

**Chapter Two_  
_**

**Saturday June 2, 10:58 A.M.**  
Victor had been awake for three hours when Garfield finally decided to join the world. Victor didn't blame his friend. If he could sleep for more than six hours, he would.

"I just had cereal this morning. If you want anything more elaborate, you'll get all the pans dirty," Victor warned.

Garfield took a moment to process the words. "Cereal sounds good."

Victor hid a smile and went back to his latest project, which was spread in pieces across the apartment's second table. After an unfortunate incident with half a gallon of orange juice, they had both decided Victor should designate a table just for his projects. Victor was grumpy if he had been awake without recharging for thirty-one hours. If he lost three weeks of progress because his prototype was marinated in orange juice… he was worse.

He could tell when Garfield found the coffee. Slowly, the trudging sounds turned into actual footsteps. By the time Gar had finished his bowl of cereal and three cups of coffee, he was actually ready for conversation.

Unfortunately, Garfield was easily distracted. Before Victor could ask for an opinion about a possible change for the hologram generator, Gar's attention was gone. Victor looked up. Garfield was staring at the cubical red box, the "token of appreciation" from the woman at the airport.

"What do you think it is?"

"You know I need a fourth cup of coffee before I can come up with something really interesting, Vic. I'm waiting for it to brew." Garfield looked at the box again. "I swear it looked a little different last night."

Victor thought for a moment, calling up electronically stored images. "The bow didn't look half that good yesterday. Did you fix it?"

"Nope." Gar looked more closely at the ribbon. "I don't have any theories about what the nice lady gave you, you would have shared any good ideas by now. Want to open it?"

Victor was halfway through a difficult section of nearly microscopic welding. "I'll be two more minutes. Do you want to wait?"

"No," Garfield answered honestly.

"Go ahead, then. Open it up."

Coffee forgotten, Garfield tugged on one of the free ends of ribbon. It fell away neatly, leaving only the box. The box itself was made from some kind of glossy cardboard, nothing too fancy. When he looked across the room, Victor was bent over a circuit board that Garfield could barely see. With a shrug, Gar lifted the top away from the box.

He was disappointed when nothing interesting happened. Gar only found that the contents of the box had been wrapped in multiple layers of clear bubble wrap, and there seemed to be a layer of red tissue paper beneath all of that protection. He carefully pulled the wrapped object from the box, weighing it in his hand. It was light.

"You almost done, Victor?"

"You're more interested than I am." Victor looked up. "That would be easier for you to open, anyway. There's tape holding the bubble wrap together."

"Alright, but you should at least get the tissue paper. It's your present." Garfield carefully removed the layers of bubble wrap. He had unwrapped presents for Victor before. A few well-meaning friends from high school and college had insisted on beautiful, neat wrapping jobs that Victor would have to unwrap with a pair of scissors.

He had meant to leave the last layer for Victor, but the red tissue paper had been taped to the bubble wrap. Garfield was left holding a perfume bottle.

"Um, Victor?" Gar held up his friend's prize. It was a beautifully bottle, a blown-glass imagining of Aladdin's lamp with a stopper in place of a lid. It was extremely light, but felt strong in his hands. The shape of the bottle wasn't surprising. The color, however…

Garfield winced. Not exactly a match for the apartment's color scheme, but maybe Victor would believe in the power of re-gifting for this one. Gar's mother liked blown glass, especially in weird colors.

"It looks like an oil lamp," Victor said, before making the last weld on the microchip. "Done."

"It looks like a genie's lamp," Garfield corrected. "See the details?" He rubbed the side, and wasn't very surprised when nothing happened. "Too bad the airport lady gave you a dud."

"It looks like it holds perfume or something." Victor took a closer look. It was unusual for blown glass to be so detailed, in his experience. A genius had made this piece. The base had the suggestion of wispy clouds, and the spout and handle curved perfectly. When he looked closer, he could see that the entire transparent lamp was made from one continuous piece of glass.

Garfield handed it over without hesitation. "You can handle perfume better than I can. If you want to open this, I'm standing farther away." His sense of smell was better since his parents had saved his life and turned him green, but that wasn't why he avoided perfume. The problem was that sometimes, he needed to change into an animal for a while. Walking past a perfume counter at a mall was enough to make him avoid changing into most animals for at least a week. Directly opening a bottle of unknown perfume, that formed an almost opaque mist in the container… He was nearly behind the couch when he gave Victor the thumbs-up to open it.

Victor was painstakingly slow as he grasped the stopper. He could sense the pressure that he was delivering to the glass, but the stopper looked to be as delicate as the bottle. It was modeled after the lid of an actual oil lamp, and offered little margin for error. If he pinched too hard, the glass might shatter.

"This is a lot stronger than it looks," Victor said, surprised. His first hesitant tugs hadn't done anything, and an actual grip on the stopper showed that the glass was firm beneath his fingers.

"Victor, c'mon!" Garfield urged. He didn't want to be that close to perfume, but he was curious.

"Alright." Victor pulled, once. The stopper came out easily, with less friction than he had expected for a bottle made completely out of glass. He was left with an elegant bottle with a pool of liquid that resembled smoke. Before he could realize that he didn't smell perfume, tendrils of the vividly colored smoke snaked out of the bottle.

Victor dropped both lid and lamp, but both pieces were caught by threads of the smoke and drawn towards the kitchen counter. Between the coffee maker and the sink, the smoke was forming into some kind of shape. Within twenty seconds, according to Victor's processors, the smoke was in the shape of a thin woman. She was sitting on the counter, arms crossed, when the smoke dissipated. The glass bottle was cradled in one of her hands.

Her cat-pupil eyes and long, straight hair were cotton-candy pink. She was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans with ripped knees, and no shoes. Her toenails were painted fluorescent green.

She held out a hand, presenting the blown-glass bottle. The lid had been replaced, and the lamp had lost all traces of the neon pink color. It was perfectly clear. "I'll give this back if you promise not to drop it again," she offered.

Victor stared.

The girl shrugged. "Maybe later." She set it carefully on the counter. "The glass is much stronger than it looks, but let's not tempt fate."

Victor finally recovered enough to put together information from all inputs. He could see her even in the infrared spectrum. His sensors said that she was about ten degrees hotter than a human. "You're a genie."

She smirked. "Well, we've progressed to stating the obvious. Quick hint: don't say 'I wish' unless you really mean it. You get three wishes, and you do not get re-dos. You don't get extra wishes, either. Attempts will just make me annoyed."

"Any other limits to know about?"

"Count me impressed. You're in shock and still asking the right questions. Some people never do inquire." She looked moderately happier with him. "I don't create matter unless the wish really calls for it. Usually, if you ask for money or anything else, it comes from somewhere. That could be a bank robbery, a life insurance policy, a bank error that leaves dozens of families bankrupt… wish carefully. I think I can bring people back from the dead if I really need to, but no one's been that stupid yet." She met Victor's eyes steadily. "I have to give you exactly what you wish for, not precisely what you want."

"How much of that is open to your interpretation?" Victor asked.

The genie actually grinned at him. "You _are _clever," she said appreciatively. "I don't have to tell the truth unless you make a wish, but I tend to be honest when I like people. I dislike stupidity and people who are still going by the 'slave of the lamp' model of wish-making. You treat me like crap, your wishes won't end up as nicely as they could. I have a little leeway in how I interpret wishes. If you really want to stay on my good side, talk over hypothetical wishes. 'If I was to wish for' is a very useful phrase. I can coach you into the best possible wish, if you trust me."

Victor's mind was still accepting that there was a genie in his kitchen, but he kept asking questions. "Um, what should I call you?"

"By name would be nice," she replied promptly, holding out her hand again. This time, it was empty. "Jinx."

"Victor. Victor Stone." He could see green in his peripheral vision. "My friend is Garfield Logan, or Gar." He shook her hand carefully. She felt solid, even if a few of his sensors weren't convinced.

Jinx looked at his hand, then at him. "Anything to share with the class?" She hadn't felt flesh, when she shook his hand, and something was flickering faintly in her vision. It looked almost like… "Hologram," Jinx guessed. "No one without high-end demon in them could guess, but you flicker a little bit when you move." She tapped the side of her face. "Good vision. Genies are something like decently powerful demons. It's the best explanation I can give you."

Victor slid off his hologram ring. The genie looked him over curiously, but gave no other reaction.

"Green, pink, and shiny," she commented finally. "This is going to be an interesting group." Jinx cut a look to her left. "Any comments from the peanut gallery? You're not always this quiet."

"He needs a fourth cup of coffee," Victor said, instead of asking how Jinx knew.

A filled cup of coffee drifted through the air, and gravity affected it again only when Garfield had a firm grasp on the handle. "I can hear when I'm waiting for the next genius to figure out how to pull a stopper. You only had to rub the side with the brass oil lamps," Jinx commented. "The glass looks a little more modern, don't you think?"

"How long have you been around?" Victor asked.

Jinx feigned shock. "Why, Mr. Stone! You never ask a lady her weight or age. Well, actually, my weight's not much of an issue. Jinn, after all."

"Jinn?" Victor had never heard the term.

"Original terminology, since genies first began appearing in the Middle East. 'Genie' is a French translation of the term. I think jinn properly translates as 'subtle fire,' which explains the weight issue. How much mass is there in a flame? I don't know, and don't particularly care to weigh fire.

"I can take on mass if I need to directly affect things, and no I don't know how that works." She said the last statement quickly, reading the interested look in Victor's eye. "I don't do 'laws of physics.' I break them."

"Jinn?" Gar had drained the cup of coffee, and his brain had finally accepted the presence of a genie on his kitchen counter. "Like Qui-Gon?"

Victor groaned, but Jinx laughed. "Not quite. I don't look half as good in robes as Liam Neeson." She added nothing else.

"There's no hurry, right? On wishes?" Victor asked.

Jinx looked downright happy with him. "No deadlines, but I will get bored with you if you take more than six weeks. Banish the phrase 'I wish' from your vocabulary until you mean it, and talk through what you want with me. I'm an expert, at this point. I can get you exactly what you want, if you watch your wording. It's what genies do."

**Saturday June 13, 11:34 A.M. **  
Richard Grayson had been awake for four hours, and he had ten more minutes to prepare for one of the most important conference calls of his life. He was in Jump City to discuss a possible joint venture between two of the largest businesses that traded in America, and Bruce trusted him to make the deal.

Wayne Enterprises was interested in funding a small start-up technology company, but wanted to leave the management and oversight to a partner. If the small collaboration worked well, the two corporations might move on to larger projects with even larger budgets. It was a huge responsibility, but Bruce had decided that he was ready. The public needed to see that Richard Grayson wasn't just Bruce Wayne's ward and heir. They needed proof that Richard could make it without his mentor.

He would be gone for at least a weekend, but Robin and Batgirl had promised to patrol Bludhaven for him on the nights he would be gone. Batman would cover Gotham alone for a few nights. If the experiment worked well, Bludhaven's villains would barely notice that Nightwing was gone. Robin and Batgirl would only interfere if civilians were in imminent danger, lessening the chances of his usual opponents learning that he was far from home.

He had called the manor from the airport to find that Batman wasn't home yet, so he had talked to Alfred for half an hour. Bruce had been predictably curt after spending an entire night on patrol, but he had given Richard a few last pieces of advice about how to approach this deal.

Richard would be meeting the C.E.O. of the potential partner that night for a meeting over dinner. As the representative for the company making the overture, he would set up reservations. He had already spoken with his hotel's concierge about the best restaurants in town for such a meeting, and had narrowed his list to three. After speaking with the C.E.O., he would have reservations for himself and the other man's entire party. From what he had heard, Trigon never traveled without his daughter and her bodyguard.

He took a few minutes to relax and not think about consequences of repercussions, and then it was time. Richard picked up his cell phone and dialed the number Trigon had sent in an e-mail. Trigon had asked for the number not to be programmed into the cell phone, as it was the only number that would reach him directly.

The phone rang only once before the man on the other end answered. "Trigon."

One of the strange quirks of Trigon Industries C.E.O. was that he legally had no last name. He said that he went by the single name to protect his family, but Bruce was still investigating other reasons why the man had chosen _that _particular name.

"Hello, Mr. Trigon. My name is Richard Grayson, and I'm in Jump City to represent Wayne Industries."

Trigon whistled. "Let's be friends, shall we? I think being on first-name terms is only fair, if Mr. Wayne is willing to send his son to make a deal."

"I'm not. His son, I mean," Richard said.

"Biology agrees with you, but try telling that to the man himself," Trigon answered easily. "My little girl's mother hasn't been around since she was a toddler, but genetically she's the one. From the e-mails we've exchanged, today would best fit both of our schedules."

"Do you have a preference for the restaurant?"

"Yes, if you don't mind. My daughter and I both are fond of Scheherazade's. I can vouch for their discretion and the quality of their dinner menu."

"Scheher—" Richard had heard the word perfectly well, but repeating it was another matter. Trigon had said the word with no hesitations.

"I'll make the reservations, if you like. The restaurant's name is a mouthful. It's named for the central storyteller of One Thousand and One Nights, which you may know as Arabian Nights." Nothing in Trigon's tone indicated that he was trying to test Richard or to take control of the meeting, and Richard wouldn't start a conflict before he met the man.

"Will your daughter and her bodyguard be dining with us tonight, Trigon?"

"Good research," Trigon said, as if he had expected nothing less. "Yes, Raven and Kore will join us."

"I'll bring a copy of the proposal for each of them, if you have no objections," Richard said. He remembered many tedious dinners where he and Bruce had read from the same copy of a business's idea for collaboration with Wayne Enterprises.

"None at all." Trigon sounded faintly surprised, but pleased. "Mr. Wilson, my chief assistant, will also come if another business deal comes through. The restaurant is flexible in its seating arrangements, and has dealt with this exact situation before. I believe he will be able to make it tonight."

"Will the restaurant be able to guarantee whatever time you like?"

"An advantage of seniority at the place," Trigon agreed. "I frequently conduct business deals in Jump City, because of collaborations with STAR Labs. Scheherazade's is a favorite meeting place. Dress for dinner is formal, suit and tie expected for gentlemen. Will six o'clock work for you?"

"Very well, thank you. I look forward to doing business with you."

"The feeling is quite mutual, Richard."

Richard made certain that the phone call was ended, and said nothing at all until his WayneTech cell again showed the time and date. Only then did half the people on the eighteenth floor of the Milton Hotel hear the man in 1804 yell "YES!"


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapters will remain slow until I take the MCAT. (For the lucky people that haven't heard of the thing, it's a standardized test used in the medical school applications process. It's five hours long and probably evil.) After June 18, the story will only be competing with the other parts of applying to med schools._

_Because the chapter was loaded June 4th, on the night of the fourth game in the Stanley Cup series: Go Red Wings! __(They've not been doing well at all in Pittsburgh, but I can hope they'll turn it around when they come back to Detroit.)  
_

**Chapter Three **

**Saturday June 13, 11:52 A.M. **  
California's metropolitan highways are said to be some of the worst in the United States. Perhaps that was the reason that Trigon insisted on taking the wheel when business took him to Jump City; he saw that perception as a challenge. New York City traffic was too stop-and-go for him, but stretches of California roads were perfect. Cutting off a sports car while driving a limousine at eighty miles an hour took skill, finesse, and a certain degree of rudeness.

His assistant did not share his views, but Trigon didn't hire the man to agree with everything he said. He hired Wilson because the man had been absolutely desperate, and kept him because the man had proven surprisingly competent in managing Trigon's unique affairs. Trigon was known publicly as the chief executive officer of Trigon Industries, but very, very few people realized that his name wasn't an affectation. He was Trigon, formerly Trigon the Terrible, and he still had a demonic empire to control. That empire was the reason he had Wilson. Wilson really hadn't wanted to die, and had been clever enough to appeal to Trigon the C.E.O. for demonic aid.

Trigon glanced in the rear-view mirror. His daughter was doing just fine in the latest heated debate. Kore had been trying to talk Raven into an evening gown for weeks, as part of her periodic efforts to give Rae a makeover. Raven was having none of it. She had recently taken a stand against all things makeover, and had grown adept at changing the subject or coaxing Kore into a compromise.

They were heading to the mall. Specifically, they were heading to the food court. Mall food courts offered a much larger variety, and his appetite would draw no strange looks. Trigon was a full demon, no matter what shape he chose to wear. He ate, at minimum, four times what a man his size should need. He and Raven claimed that he had a high metabolism, if business associates asked. No associate had been brave enough to inquire after Kore's tastes just yet, typically because the men and women that noticed Kore's unusual combinations were too sick to speak.

Trigon raised a brow when a couple in a little yellow convertible cut him off as they passed under a bridge. That looked like a challenge.

Wilson read the predatory look in Trigon's eyes, but kept any protests to himself. Trigon would just take it upon himself to drive like even more of a fool, and there was no need to distract the demon.

One of Wilson's chief regrets in life was accidentally introducing the term "road rage" into Trigon's vocabulary. Trigon the Terrible had been driven mostly by rage. Trigon the C.E.O. took out quite a bit of his naturally short temper by driving recklessly and creatively cussing out drivers without the skill to properly cut people off.

Wilson went back to his Black RaspBerry. Trigon wanted him to be on hand for the meeting with the Wayne Enterprises representative, and Trigon would never allow an accident to happen with his precious daughter in the backseat. Absorbed in his e-mails and stock quotes, Wilson didn't see the warning that could have prevented Trigon's first car accident.

**Saturday June 13, 12:26 P.M. **  
Victor hated California traffic. If people would travel at the speed limit, instead of trying to cut two minutes off of their commute through irresponsible driving, the entire population of cars on the freeway would continue moving. Instead, people tried to make the entire process faster for themselves. They cut people off, they drove too fast, and they made other drivers slam on their breaks. It made going anywhere in town a chore.

Jinx had offered to get them to the store, but had admitted that she wasn't sure how many people would see them appear out of nowhere. When he mentioned that he would drive, she had pointed at the bottle. "It's a bad idea to let that out of your sight. It doesn't matter where I am. If someone new opens that bottle, then that person will be calling the shots."

She hadn't given many more details. The bottle was something like a contract that she had to honor. If he didn't have that bottle in his possession, someone else would find it. She couldn't help anyone new find the bottle, but as long as no one else had opened it she could return the bottle to him if she so wished. Victor had wanted to ask exactly how that process worked, or why she was so specific about those details when everything else was vague, but she had changed the subject.

Victor and Gar, in the front, were wearing seatbelts. Jinx was sitting cross-legged in the center of the backseat, and had been amused at the suggestion to buckle up. She was looking at everything—billboards, cars, drivers—with a critical eye, and kept twisting in her seat to see the next item of interest.

They had been stationary for ten minutes when she met Victor's gaze in the rearview mirror. "I'm set for now. People can tell me what year it is all they like, not many people bother to drive down the freeway to let me see for myself. I've already quality time watching crowds of people, but not watching people text-messaging while driving at full speed," Jinx said. "Are you ready to talk hypothetical wishes? There isn't any rush, but you should at least have something in mind."

"He needs a job," Garfield offered. "A good one." He turned in his seat to face them both, as the car wouldn't be moving any time soon. "Victor's a genius inventor, but he doesn't have the money or skill set to start his own business from scratch. If he could get in with a biotechnology company, he would make it."

Jinx looked to her left. Victor was nodding. "I don't need to be lead researcher, but the chance to break into the field… I need one year at the right company. I have three patents nearly ready to go, and the only person who can beat me for modification of existing cybernetic prostheses is my father."

Garfield grinned. "So, hypothetically…"

"This could get dangerous," Victor muttered. "Gar? We're sticking to things I'd actually ask for." He nearly said 'wish,' but caught himself just in time. He didn't think it would count in that tense, but he was going to be careful. "A job is good, but watch it. I'm sure Jinx would love to hear a few stories about you."

Jinx raised one pink eyebrow.

"I'd tell stories right back," Garfield threatened.

"I like this," Jinx said. "But, on the jobs front…" She closed her eyes contemplatively. Moments later, hints of a smile touched her lips. "Don't give me specifics. If you want a chance in your field, I'm all over it. How many tools do you have in your trunk?"

Victor stared into the mirror for a second before answering. "Enough to fix anything that goes wrong while I'm out, with my car or with me."

"Perfect, that will do nicely. Do you have any plans today that can't be cancelled?"

"No."

"Good, because you should make your wish now." Jinx opened her eyes. "Ask me for a chance."

"That's it?" Victor asked. "I ask for a chance?"

"If you trust me, and do as I say for the next three minutes, you'll have the chance of a lifetime," Jinx promised. "Don't give me specifics, because that'll just hold me to a very narrow range. I don't have details. I'm… no time to explain, traffic is going to move in twenty seconds."

Victor turned to face the back of the car. "You can see the future?"

"No, I can see that the idiot that caused this traffic jam is finally getting out of the way," Jinx said curtly. "Wish!"

"I wish for a chance," Victor said clearly. The words resonated in the small space of the car.

Jinx's eyes glowed hot pink. "We're in business," she cheered, just as traffic began to move. "Now, Victor, how good at you are driving like an obnoxious moron?"

"Why?"

"There's a limousine four cars ahead of you and one lane to your left. You need to be behind it within two minutes for Plan A to work. Believe me, you wouldn't like Plan B." Jinx's eyes remained just as brightly lit. "Go. Nobody's going to be hurt, you have a loaded genie in the backseat. Drive!"

Victor stomped on the gas the instant he had room, following a dark blue SUV closely. His car's engine was roaring even as he traveled 50 miles an hour, and that sound and the tailgating made the SUV cut over to the right.

"That green sedan's going to follow him over, and you'll have the space for a hard left. I'll make the car behind you in the fast lane slow down if I have to, but you need to get left."

It happened just as Jinx said. The green sedan had its right indicator flashing, and quickly left the lane. Victor had just enough space to stomp on the accelerator and slide his car into the fast lane, just behind a limousine. "Got it," he said, slowing to 70 miles an hour. "Now what?"

Jinx leaned forward. "Thank you for buckling in, gentlemen. The limousine ahead of us is a marvel of engineering. It's a hydrogen fuel cell and electric hybrid. Can you fix it without any assistance from me? My assistance would be of the magical variety, and wouldn't lend the same effect."

"I can do it," Victor said confidently. "My baby's built along the same lines, but with a few combustion-based accessory components," he explained, an affectionate hand on the dashboard.

Jinx's expression promised later teasing, but her voice was all business. "Perfect."

"Jinx?" Victor asked.

Her expression had turned to one of shock as she took a good look at the car ahead of them, and she scooted to her left. When she stopped, Victor was between her and any observers in the limousine. "I'm playing out-of-sight for a while, boys. Someone in that car would recognize me right away, and that'd make this less noteworthy. Victor, do mention that your car isn't fully reinforced against high-speed collisions. Garfield might do better to wait for you in the limousine.

"The limo's engine was going to go in the next two days. I'll speed that up, and lock in his brakes while I'm at it. I'll be controlling both cars, Victor, but make it look good in case someone's watching."

Before Victor could ask any more questions, her eyes blazed brighter for a moment. A cloud of smoke billowed from the limousine's engine, and the limo slowed abruptly. The brakes on Victor's car engaged in the same moment, slowing his car to just thirty miles an hour. "Wish granted," she pronounced as Victor's car hit the back of the limousine, and filaments of pink snapped out from her in every direction.

The limousine skidded into the left shoulder of the road, where it stopped parallel to the painted lines. Victor followed, and judged from his car's responsiveness that only the bumper had been damaged. He and Garfield had barely moved during the minor collision, likely because of Jinx's influence. The cars behind him had successfully swerved into the other lane or slammed on brakes.

Victor turned to see if she had any last advice, but Jinx was gone. The bottle, which had been beside Victor on the seat, was again bright pink.

Garfield still was not used to the idea of genies, even after a fifth cup of coffee and several tangential conversations with Jinx. Still, he could guess what had to happen next. "The engine smoked before the car skidded out. You're the mechanic with a full set of tools, Victor. Show the mystery driver what you can do."

"I'm on it." Victor was nervous as he collected his box of tools from the trunk. He stopped at the driver's seat to collect the bottle, remembering Jinx's warning. She had said to never let it out of his sight, even for a minute. This had to qualify. The bottle fit easily in the tool kit's side compartment.

Victor felt no more confident as he walked along the shoulder of the road. He had asked for a chance, not a guarantee. Jinx had already fulfilled her part of the deal. It was his turn to make things happen.


	4. Chapter 4

_Still alive, still slightly obsessed with med school applications in their various stages, still expecting MCAT results on July 21._

_The reasons for my characterization of Trigon will be explained later in the story. Garfield's anecdotes about zoos (specifically about Gus) are true. The country Garfield mentions does not exist, but is comics-based canon for where his parents worked in Africa. The research topic was chosen to suit the timeframe, estimated geography, and focus of the Logans' research. Happy reading!_

_**Chapter Four**_

**Saturday June 13, 12:31 P.M. **  
Trigon glared at his car's dashboard after the vehicle had ground to a halt. It was the exact look he gave to a promising employee that had disappointed him, but the limousine neither cowered nor apologized. Its engine continued to emit dark smoke. "You're alright, Raven? Kore?"

"We're fine," Raven said. "I'll just have a couple bruises from Kore protecting me." She smiled at her friend reassuringly. Kore had picked her up in the moment before the car stopped, and had flown towards the back of the car. Unlike previous occasions, however, Raven had been left without any fractured bones after Kore's help. "She left the ribs out of it this time. The bruises will be gone in two hours."

"I was nervous," Kore said, still agitated after the threat of danger. "You are completely right as well, Mr. Wilson?"

"Yes, thank you ever so much for asking," Slade Wilson said dryly, as he returned to his e-mails. He had a mechanic on speed dial, but the man was based in Boston. It would take time to fly the mechanic out to look at the car, and repairs certainly wouldn't happen at the side of the road.

"I could see that you were alright, Wilson," Trigon explained impatiently. "I don't suppose you could find me a mechanic that works with prototype cars? A couple of the 'check engine' lights were on, but no lights that said 'check engine immediately.' What about the people behind us? There were three, I thought, and the woman was not wearing a seatbelt."

"I have already begun to address the problem of the mechanic, Trigon."

Raven and Kore looked out the back window of the stopped limousine. "I do not see a woman in the car, but the two gentlemen appear to be fine and happy. Perhaps she has lain down across the backseat to recover from the surprise. The windshield is intact," Kore answered.

"They feel okay," Raven said, eyes closed. "They're both a little nervous, but neither is worrying about someone. I thought I felt her emotions for a minute, but they were gone before I could get a trace."

"Perhaps she fainted?" Kore suggested. "I believe humans do that sometimes, when very shocked." She looked to Wilson for confirmation, as he was the only full human within the car, but he was busily typing.

"Her friends aren't at all worried, or guilty. I believe the driver is coming to speak with you, father," Raven said. "He's getting something from the trunk, but he isn't angry."

Trigon glanced in his side mirror. "Looks like a tool kit. Kore, how does his fender look?"

"Dented, but the man's car is intact," Kore said. "I believe our vehicle's bumper will be in similar condition. The engine of his car should be fine."

"Good. If all else fails, you can airlift us out of here without drawing a fifth of the attention I would." Trigon wouldn't airlift the car, precisely. If he resumed his natural form, he would be large enough to pick up the limousine and move it to a more suitable location. He also would drive the entire city into a state of panic, which was why Kore handled most situations. Tamaraneans were much less frightening than demons, if the reactions they had received were a fair indication. "Jump City would practically adopt you. Their local hero is famous for being green and the son of famous researchers."

"The passenger of the car behind us is green," Raven said. "Green, male, and the right age to be the Logan kid."

"He's probably the one, then. In any case, it's showtime," Trigon said. "Nothing unusual if you can help it." Kore and Raven both gave him a thumbs-up before sitting in the center of the limousine's main area for passengers. Kore, always wary of threats, took the seat between Raven and the front window. Wilson had returned to answering e-mails, as no one seemed interested in his mechanic or the several towing services in the Jump City area.

Trigon rolled down his window. The approaching man carried a tool kit under one arm, and had already looked over the damage to the limousine's bumper. Trigon could see the telltale flickering of a hologram, but chose to not acknowledge that piece of information just yet. No human could process images quickly enough to make out the electronic nature of the image, and Trigon liked to maintain cover as long as possible.

"My apologies," Trigon said, stepping out of his car. "My car's engine quit and the brakes jammed, and it was all I could do to get to the side of the road."

"Completely understandable, sir," the man said easily. "Mind if I take a look? I'm not a certified mechanic, but I'm more than qualified. I built my car from the ground up. All that you need in back is a new bumper. We were lucky. I saw your car smoking, so I slowed up as best as I could. Our bumper and fender were even on the same level."

"It's not a combustion engine," Trigon warned. "It's a new prototype. Hydrogen electric something. I don't understand half of how it works."

"Perfect, actually. My car's a one-of-a-kind hybrid, so I've done more with experimental engines than conventional parts. May I?"

"Certainly," Trigon said. He gestured to Wilson, who pressed the button to open the limousine's hood.

Victor looked over the car's hardware. It wasn't nearly as bad as he was expecting. The connections between the added power source and the engine itself had worked themselves loose. The smoke had resulted when the resulting friction caught some insulation material on fire, from what he could see. "I can fix this in fifteen or twenty minutes, but I'd rather not leave my friend. My car isn't completely reinforced yet, and California drivers…"

"If he doesn't mind, he may join my daughter and her friend in the back," Trigon said. "I assure you, this limousine is fully reinforced." He held out his hand. "Trigon."

Victor willed himself to not react as he shook the industrial giant's hand. "Victor Stone. The hand's prosthetic, Mark 2. I designed it from my father's original." The hand and most of his body was a replacement, but the replaced hand people felt during a handshake was intriguing. Knowing that replacements extended to his entire body made most wary.

Trigon didn't stare at it, to his credit. He only smiled. "Best dexterity I've seen in prosthetics, and I just shook your hand. Mind if I watch you at work?"

"That's no problem at all. I'll just tell my friend what's going on. My friend's—"

"Garfield Logan?" Trigon guessed.

Victor grinned. "He's famous."

Trigon watched the man go. Victor quickly told his friend what was happening. Garfield Logan didn't seem very surprised, but he did seem relieved to climb out through the driver's side door. Neither Victor nor Garfield looked back at the car, or mentioned a third passenger that might need a safe haven or some kind of assistance. He glanced at the back of the limo. Raven would have picked up his curiosity by now, and she could read Garfield's emotions for any traces of guilt or malice.

Victor certainly didn't mention a female passenger, unconscious or otherwise. He simply walked back to the engine and began to work. Victor didn't narrate what he was doing, which Trigon appreciated. The work was too complex to explain to a layperson.

Victor's attention was fully taken with the engine, and the limousine's hood blocked any view from the passengers. As such, Trigon focused until he could see through the hologram. From Victor's casual comment, he was capable of redesigning his own hand. Trigon could see that most of the man's body had been recrafted using metal and clever electronics. Victor's metal fingers were more than capable of delicate work, and Trigon spent fifteen minutes observing the cybernetic repairman and forming an idea.

**Saturday June 13, 12:35 P.M. **  
Garfield Logan was nervous. He had met foreign dignitaries, scientific geniuses, and (once) the president. Victor, however, had made him completely anxious in one brief exchange.

"We just crashed into Trigon's car," Victor had explained quickly. "You do get to hang out in the back of the limo like Jinx said, but you'll be with Trigon's daughter and her friend. There's a passenger in the front seat of the limo that looked like bad business. One eye, mean disposition."

Gar had gulped, Victor had promised that it'd be fine, and then Garfield had clambered out of the car through the driver's side door. The walk to the limo had been entirely too short, and he again had the chance to climb through a car. There was a way to the back compartment of the limousine between the driver and passenger's seats, and no way to get into the limo normally. The traffic zooming past would take the limo's door straight off the hinges, so he made his way past the guy in the passenger's seat. He was thankful for Victor's warning. He didn't stare when one angry eye glared at him, he just kept moving into the back.

"Hi," Garfield said, when he found two girls his age staring right at him. "I'm Garfield Logan, from the silver car? Your… Um, Trigon said I could stay in here while my friend works his magic on the limo's engine. Victor's a mechanic."

"Is there any other person in your car?" the orange-skinned girl asked directly, before her friend elbowed her.

Hesitating a moment was odd, but it allowed him to answer "No" honestly. Jinx wasn't in the car any more, and had ducked out of sight as soon as she looked at the limousine. Wait. What had Jinx seen in these passengers?

He looked at the two girls. The one who hadn't spoken had purple hair and purple eyes, and some kind of red gem-thing in the center of her forehead. The other girl was orange with solid green eyes, and Garfield's memory clicked. There couldn't be that many orange girls in Jump City.

"You were at the airport last night!" Garfield said before thinking. "The VIP lounge. Victor didn't believe that I'd seen someone else who liked to think outside the box for skin tones." He decided not to mention that the girl had been floating.

The orange girl grinned, which made her look sixteen times friendlier. "Yes, we were. My name is Koriand'r, but I am usually called Kore."

"Corey," Garfield repeated. "I'm Garfield Logan."

The purple-haired girl seemed to be watching something to his right, instead of following the conversation. "Raven," she said. She didn't make eye contact when she offered her name.

Kore didn't seem surprised by her friend's reaction. "Does your friend work as a mechanic?"

"Nope. He works at STAR Labs, in my parents' lab. Cars are more of a hobby for him, but he's good. He built the car he drives, and the engine is entirely his design. If he'd actually let someone file patents for half the stuff he makes, he'd be set for life. As it is, he promises he'll send off a patent application when he's ready to make any part of the invention public." Garfield knew that he chattered when he was nervous, but he couldn't help it. The one girl wouldn't even look at him, and Kore was a very good listener.

"Does he know that patent law protects his inventions? Even if someone used his ideas to form a new technology, he would have to be credited," Kore said.

"If he could prove that the invention in question used or relied on his technology," Gar agreed. "Vic's too much of a perfectionist, I think. He doesn't want to put an invention out there until it's done."

"Does he work alone?"

"Usually, yeah. The only exceptions are when I'm really bored or he has a really tricky project. Then, I don't help so much as hand him the tools he need and hold things still." Gar glanced to his left. Raven still didn't seem interested in the conversation, but was concentrating on something else entirely.

Kore smiled at him, as if she knew what Garfield had been thinking. "Do you both live in Jump City?"

"Yes. Victor's lived here all his life, my parents and I moved here when I was nine. I met Victor at one of the STAR Labs' Family Day picnics."

"You know many of the entertaining diversions of the city, yes? What would you recommend, should friend Raven and myself have free time this afternoon?"

Garfield thought for a moment. "This afternoon… it's nice outside, so a lot of people will probably head to the Jump City Zoo. It's technically in the next town over, but it's funded by the Jump City mayor's office. Not my favorite place, but it's popular. The park in the middle of Jump City's great for taking walks or relaxing, really bad if you're at all concerned with security. The mall's one of the best in this part of California, the art museum is tiny but good, and the downtown area has a lot of stores on a main drag."

Kore had discreetly nudged Raven as she asked the question. The two exchanged a significant look, which seemed to be part of a silent conversation. Raven nodded minimally, Kore smiled, and Raven turned to face their visitor.

"You would not recommend the zoo?" Raven asked.

Garfield hadn't thought she was listening. "That's more a personal preference than anything else," he explained. "I don't like seeing all those animals in cages. They're called 'enclosures' now, and they have grass and look kind of like a real habitat, but it's still a cage."

Kore murmured that she would check on Victor's progress and exited through the driver's door. Raven was much better with people than she believed, and would be fine. Kore and Trigon had not yet found reason to doubt Raven's empathy, and Raven detected no suspicious emotions in Garfield or his friend. Kore moved to stand beside Trigon at the front of the car, and took an at-ready stance in case anything did go wrong.

**Saturday June 13, 12:40 P.M. **  
"The animals are treated well, aren't they?" Raven's expression was purely curious. "I do not think I've been to a zoo before. If I have visited one, I was too young to form memories of it."

"Well, yeah, but they can't really move like they should. The zoos come up with special diets, but for a lot of the big animals especially they need to do more. Some zoos have figured out that animals do better if they have something to do. There was a famous case with a depressed polar bear—Gus. He just swam circles around the enclosure's pool, every day, until they started hiding his food all over the place. Animals need to think, too. Half of a zookeeper's job with elephants is finding a new way to keep them busy."

Raven watched, surprised. Garfield had seemed very hesitant, but when he was speaking about animals he was certain. "I've never heard that," Raven said. "Does the Jump City zoo do any of that?"

"I'm not sure, but I know they have a lot of my favorite big animals. Lions, tigers, bears…"

"Oh my?"

Garfield grinned. "Elephants, too. I'm not sure if they've added any new exhibits."

"The zoo's out, then," Raven said. "We were on our way to the mall, and probably will still go there for the day. Kore was making a peace offering by asking about other things to do in town. She'd like to stay at the mall all day, but then she'd decide that it's more fun if she finds things for me to try on."

"This would be bad?"

"Kore has an inordinate fondness for pink. It is not my color. Should I mention this fact, she finds things that are even worse. Last time, it was a pale yellow dress with ruffles. I tried it only to prove a point."

"What point was that?" Garfield asked.

"Yellow also isn't my color. After she saw me in that, she agreed to have it stricken from future clothing purchases." Raven still cringed at the memory of the dress, but that dress alone had saved her from dressing up as Belle for Halloween. "Not a lot goes with grey-toned skin and purple. How bad is it to find clothing that doesn't clash with the green?"

"Pretty bad," Gar admitted. "Purple's surprisingly okay, but other than that I wear a lot of blue jeans, brown, black, grey, and white. Dark blue's alright, dark red works. If I wear straight red, I look like a Christmas tree."

"No dark green?"

Garfield grinned. "I feel like it'd be overkill, you know? Three quarters of Jump City already knows who I am because of the green skin. If I started wearing green on top of that, the only upside would be that I could hide in the trees and no one would ever find me."

"Some days, that sounds like it'd be a great idea," Raven said. "My father and Kore are a bit protective. He gets a lot of attention from the press, and some people get ideas. My father couldn't hide his emotions if he tried. He cares about me, and some have tried to use that to their advantage."

"My parents don't get the same following. Nobel winners are really exciting for a bit, but then they'll go two years without a new major breakthrough and people get bored. Everyone knows who I am, anyway. I'm Jump City's unofficial mascot."

"Your parents are very well known for giving most of their wealth to charity," Raven said. "You wouldn't be a promising target for kidnapping or threatened assassination. The rest of the money's probably in very secure investments that take time to access."

"Compared to Trigon's money?"

"He's in charge of the company, and has a lot more access to liquid assets. The way Trigon Industries is set up, he technically could withdraw a lump sum out of the coffers. Even if he changed it, I still would be at risk. He minimizes that by keeping me with him and right next to Kore."

Garfield still didn't mention that Kore could float. If she was trusted to protect Trigon's only daughter, with no security backup in sight, she could do more than just float. "I've never really thought about that. My parents were much more careful when I was a kid, but that was mostly to keep me from becoming a scientific curiosity. They saved me from an incurable disease, and the side effect of the cure was green. They refused to come back into the States until they had documentation that I would not be subjected to quarantine or mandatory monitoring."

"Where were you, outside of the States?" Raven asked.

"Upper Lamumba, Africa. My parents were there to research the origins of the HIV virus by studying the primate version, Simian immunodeficiency virus." Garfield changed the topic toward something lighter. "The most recent trip I took out of the country was to London, for work. Victor and I didn't do anything touristy, though. We were hearing about all the latest research the whole time. Not my favorite trip, but I learned a lot."

"I've been to London, but I've only been to Cairo in Africa," Raven said, leaning forward. "Where else have you been?"

**Saturday June 13, 12:39 P.M. **  
It only took one member of the restaurant's waitstaff who felt entitled to a little extra income. It wouldn't do to pass up the chance to earn $5,000 for one incident of snooping and one phone call, and that was precisely what happened during Scheherazade's lunch hours. One employee who had accepted a bribe made a point to look at the reservations list, presumably on the phone with a customer who had forgotten the time.

"Yes, I have it." If the member of the staff didn't sound thrilled to be making that call, it was a minimal redemption. Nothing good could come from people who threw around thousands of dollars for the answer to a simple question. "Mr. Trigon, party of five, dining at six o'clock at the pride-of-place table. Yes, that is the table near the back corner, the booth with the red-patterned upholstery."

_The second half of your payment will be in your account by two o'clock, _a computer-synthesized voice replied. _We are certain, of course, that your information will be accurate. _

"It's tentatively a party of five," the waitstaff employee added hesitantly. "One of Mr. Trigon's group may not attend, his personal assistant."

_Was this information not important before? Any detail may be significant, _the voice said. Sharpness carried even through the computer translation.

"It's a business dinner, the first meeting between important representatives for Trigon Industries and some east coast company."

_Hm. Should you remember any _other _details, or should the reservations change, you know this phone number. It will be valid until six o'clock tonight. _

The shaking member of the waitstaff looked at the sleek phone that had been part of the initial deal. Find out one piece of information, be paid handsomely, make all calls from an untraceable phone… it had seemed like a good idea.

"I'm supposed to get off of work in twenty minutes."

_I suggest you make an alternate arrangement. You agreed to our little deal, and we expect you to fulfill your end of the bargain. You will contact us should any detail change. _

The voice on the other line finished talking exactly as the phone call was ended, and the shivering employee was left with only regret for the "easy, lucrative deal." Something was going to happen, and it was not going to go well for Trigon's party of five.


	5. Chapter 5

_The following applies to the first paragraph:  
Yes, I fudged the explanation for just what went wrong in the fictional hydrogen fuel-cell prototype limousine and how it was repaired. I'm a biology/chemistry/literature/band/theater/history geek at heart, and I don't plan on branching out to (alternative) automotive mechanics. My idea was borrowed completely from Mythbusters (extension cords do catch fire when overloaded). Should anyone prove too disappointed, send me a better explanation and I may substitute in your car expertise. (Should anyone feign expertise, there's little chance that I'll be able to tell.) Creative explanations welcome._

_For the last section:  
Annette Fletcher is based on an extremely obnoxious caller, who wasted an hour of Kayasuri-N's time at her phone-bank job. I needed a name, Annette somebody happened to annoy somebody in the position to provide me with a name._

_For the chapter in general: enjoy. My life is actually gaining a schedule, my muse is very happy to be in Jump City right now, and this story is moving again. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed!  
_

**Chapter Five**

**Saturday June 13, 12:51 P.M. **  
Victor repaired the limousine's engine in sixteen minutes. "I think that'll do it, Trigon. You'll need to start her up to be sure, but I think this will do it. I can e-mail you the description of what your mechanic or engineering team should look into. From what I can see, the wires in the engine were routing too much power through too little material. The engineers were using high-grade electrical wiring, but didn't take the heat from the environment and the running engines into their calculations for the current the wires would handle. Two wires in a cord fused together due to the heat, and that made a short circuit and a spark here. The spark caught the insulation on fire, on top of the short circuit cutting out power to the back axles. I replaced the ruined pieces as I went through with wire I had with me, to keep all the connections in the right order." Victor pointed to the area of the engine he had rewired.

"This is my personal favorite brand and type of wiring, and I go through a lot of it. It's flexible, it can handle a lot of power, and the insulation strips neatly. It's the kind I use to hook up electronics in my prosthetics, and I've used it for parts of my car's engine. I'll send a typed report to your mechanic, and copy you in on it so the company can't rip you off too badly."

Trigon listened politely, but was more interested in the man who had fixed a one-of-a-kind engine with six common tools and two spools of wire. "Perhaps we can make a more permanent arrangement." Kore had been standing at his side for ten minutes or so, and they had only needed to exchange a glance. Both of them liked Victor Stone, and Kore was similarly fond of his friend. More importantly, Raven hadn't sensed any emotions to warn Trigon away from a business deal. He had started keeping his daughter with him for her protection; she had become indispensable for her ability to judge potential partners. No business partnership survived without her silent approval.

"I'm meeting with an agent from Wayne Enterprises tonight to discuss the possibility of beginning a joint venture," Trigon continued. "We haven't made plans yet, but I would be thrilled to hire you on as a chief engineer for a technological startup. No direction has been planned yet, but I'm certain that you could adapt to any technology we throw at you."

Victor stared for a few seconds before he found the words to respond. "I'd be honored to be a part of it."

"Good man." Trigon paused in his planning for a moment, remembering that the start-up company was meant to be a partnership. He would call Grayson back. If Grayson could get through the dinner without being impressed by Victor, then Trigon would create a company himself to let Victor research. Trigon trusted his instincts, and Raven's approval (by lack of disapproval, as in most deals) was icing on the cake. He was making the right decision by hiring the man. "I'll let my partner know we'll expect two more for dinner, if your friend Mr. Logan would like to come along. My daughter and Kore will be along for the dinner, and if business talk becomes too dry Mr. Logan can join them in conversation."

"I'm free today, but might need to give a week's notice at work. I can finish up my notebook at the Logans' lab in one day, but researchers generally show their replacement the ropes."

"That will be no problem at all, Victor. Dinner is six P.M., Scheherazade's, downtown Jump City, dress is suit and tie. It won't be a normal interview, since I've made up my mind. Convince Grayson that you're half as smart as I think you are, and I know he'll agree with me. If you bring along schematics or prototypes, there will be no need to show them until everyone at the table has signed a binding confidentiality agreement." Trigon held out his hand. "Welcome to Trigon Industries, Victor Stone."

Victor didn't ask about the equipment he'd be given, how much freedom he would have to pursue research, or the salary he would earn. Every other part of this plan had worked out, and he could iron out details before signing his name to any contract. "Thank you, Trigon. It's a pleasure to be involved."

Trigon closed the hood of the limousine. Kore had already made her way back into the limo, and Garfield hopped out just as Trigon and Victor reached the driver's side door. "I'll stay around just in case, but there shouldn't be any problems," Victor said.

Trigon nodded. "Much appreciated. I'll just start her up, shall I?" He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine hummed to life. "Perfect. Wilson, will you please dial up Richard Grayson from WayneTech? We'll have two more joining us for dinner tonight, one of them the new company's lead engineer."

Garfield's jaw dropped. Trigon only laughed as he waved the two back to their car. By the time Garfield had buckled himself into the passenger seat, he regained the power of speech. "Lead engineer for a start-up technology company?" Garfield asked, eyes wide.

Victor waved to Trigon, who promptly cut off a canary-yellow convertible. Victor followed at a much easier pace, quickly leaving the fast lane. He wasn't about to try that kind of driving while half his brain was still running Trigon's words on a loop. "Yeah. I think he liked me." Remembering the reason for that strange interview, he unzipped the tool kit's side compartment. He didn't take his eyes off the road, but used one hand to carefully take out the glass bottle.

"It's sparking," Garfield said, watching the glowing flecks of pink disappear as they touched the seat. It looked like someone had put an entire bundle of hot pink sparklers inside the bottle before putting on the lid. The stopper shot from the bottle, and the light show stopped.

Jinx didn't bother with a dramatic entrance. She appeared in the backseat in an instant. "Done! Done done and done! Pity you missed the other fireworks, Victor."

"What other fireworks?" Victor asked.

Jinx smirked. "Garfield charmed the most protective bodyguard in the business into stepping out so that Trigon's little girl would talk to him. I'm good at sensing intent. I didn't show my face because Trigon was standing right there, and he hates it when his ideas aren't completely his. He says it feels like being led around by the nose." Jinx pulled a face. "Like the rest of the world doesn't feel that way…"

"He would have been able to see you?" Garfield asked. "None of the other drivers did, except…"

"Except?" Jinx prompted.

"Kore—Raven's bodyguard, but she acts more like her best friend—asked me if there was anyone else in the car with me and Victor."

Jinx looked annoyed. "I didn't see who exactly we were dealing with until we were already behind them, or I would have stayed out of sight. I can only completely hide my presence from humans."

Victor glanced in the rear-view mirror, but Garfield turned around in his seat. "Run that by me again?"

"InvisiJinx only works on humans. Trigon's… not." Jinx rolled her eyes when that statement received two blank looks. "Trigon the Terrible, anyone? He's only a little bit famous."

"_That _Trigon?" Garfield squeaked.

Jinx didn't laugh at the look on Garfield's face, but it was an effort. "Yes, that Trigon. He had a human lover at some point, and the details on how that happened are scarce. The motive's easy. Trigon wanted a half-demon baby who would open this world to conquering through as according to some prophecy, but he didn't count on mommy dearest doing a runner. Smart for her, perhaps, but she left the baby.

"Something about staying in human form to keep an infant alive really softened him up. He went through a few loser demon bodyguards for his daughter before Kore literally fell out of the sky. She's an alien, from somewhere in a galaxy far far away—Tamaranean girl, I think."

Victor tried to reconcile "Trigon the Terrible" with the enthusiastic businessman. "He's given up on the world conquest, then?"

"Yeah, he decided that the second empire would be too much work. He already has a huge chunk of demonic land under his control," Jinx explained, happy to inform. "That's why Trigon's chief assistant is indispensable. Slade Wilson doesn't just handle Trigon Industries; he handles all calls that come in for Trigon the Terrible. The rumor mill hasn't caught just what Slade did to owe Trigon a few years of employment, so it has to be good."

Victor was smiling. Jinx, distracted from her storytelling, glared at him. "What?"

"Demons are gossips. I'm trying to picture it."

Jinx's expression was positively angelic, if a bit smug. "If you had a lifespan worth mentioning, you'd gossip a whole lot more."

Garfield decided to keep the peace. "So, everyone but Slade could have seen you. Kore asked me if anyone else was in the car."

"What did you say?" Jinx narrowed her eyes in thought. "Not the truth, I hope. I haven't had to directly influence Trigon, but I'd rather not go against him. I technically can override him, but he holds grudges."

"I said no. You weren't in the car at that point, so I didn't lie." Garfield wasn't the best liar in the world, as Victor knew. "Can you really go against Trigon, Jinx?"

"On my own? Never. If it's for a wish, yes," Jinx said. "If someone wished for me to kill him—and I would never recommend that, because someone way worse would take his place—I could do it." She met Victor's eyes in the rear-view mirror. "The worst things happen when someone takes it upon themselves to be the good guy. Ask first."

"Like, killing Trigon?" Garfield asked.

"That's one example. All of the petty demon lords fighting to take his place wouldn't hesitate to kill any human they see. Another is wishing to end hunger. Unless the wording was absolutely perfect, I would end world hunger in the only way that makes sense with my power and my control. I would end hunger." She spoke the words with a strange inflection.

Victor was the first to catch on. "The hungry people would die," he said slowly.

Jinx nodded. "There might just be enough food on this planet to feed every last person, right now. Distributing it would not be feasible for a single jinn, as it would probably lead to a shortage somewhere. I couldn't do that. It would go directly against the wish to _end _hunger. The only option would be to stop it permanently, by causing death of the starving."

"World peace?" Victor asked.

Jinx had heard that one before. "The only options that come to mind are a single dictator with the ability to crush any outbreaks or rebellions before they begin, or a completely brainwashed world that wouldn't think of beginning conflict."

"That's horrible," Garfield said. "How can you stop people from doing stupid things like that?"

"Screaming usually works," Jinx said with a shrug. "If I interrupt a wish, they can change the rest of it to be more suitable. 'I wish that no more people would starve' can be harmless, if a phrase like 'in my city for the next twenty-four hours' is added. I can do that. It's a limited goal that can be accomplished without bad side effects."

"What about chances?" Victor asked.

"I already had the right events at hand," Jinx said. "I knew exactly what to alter and where you had to be, and the wish was vague enough that you could have failed and still have left the wish satisfied. It was a chance, not a guarantee."

"I don't have anything in mind for a follow-up just yet, but I'll let you know," Victor said. "What you did today… that was incredible. Some of the wishes have to go right."

Jinx smiled a little. "That's a better topic. If you're looking for ideas, I can tell you about the wishes that usually work."

"No need to rush," Victor said. "You gave me six weeks, remember? We can all trade. You can tell us about the ones that came out well, and we'll trade for stories. All of mine seem to be about Garfield being a blockhead."

"Funny. All mine are about you forgetting basic facts of life," Garfield retorted.

"Terra, the time you drove my car, the grand arcade debacle…" Victor raised a brow, daring Garfield to top that list.

"_All _of your girlfriends, Hologram Generator 2.0, the time that you plowed through with an experiment despite being temporarily colorblind," Garfield shot back. "Those are three, I could be here all day."

Sitting cross-legged in the backseat, Jinx listened with a fully recovered smile. "If the two of you are nice enough to share later, I can think of twenty immediately. I can group them by wish type, location, chronological order, stupidity of the wish-maker... or start you off easy."

"We can't handle the truth?" Victor guessed.

Her smile was Cheshire. "You fixed a car, Gar met one of the best-protected heiresses in the world, and the job interview is a formality for you to pick your own projects with your own technology company. I managed that in five minutes, no preparation. What do you think I can do if I have proper planning and motivation?"

From the contemplative looks on their faces, they had a few ideas. "I'll start you off with a free story. It was a 'prove the genie really has the powers she claims to have' wish—Mexico City, two years ago, an extremely dim tourist." Jinx was going to miss these two. They were willing to listen to her on Day One, they had a sense of humor, and neither had asked for demonstrations of the power she'd mentioned. On merit of all of the above, she'd give Victor's wishes everything she had. That could be quite a showing.

Victor and Garfield listened to three more stories over pizza. When that was done, they headed back to the apartment. Victor had prototypes and diagrams to prepare for a casual dinner presentation, and Garfield's commentary about the various failed models kept even that process interesting.

No, Jinx wouldn't mind at all if they took longer than the average six days. In her experience, not many people were both smart and fun. She was going to enjoy the break while it lasted.

**Saturday June 13, 2:06 P.M. **  
Rouge let the cheap cell phone ring twice before she answered. Only one person would be calling this number, and she wouldn't seem too eager for her informant's call. She would be the very definition of an in-control planner.

"You have information for me," Rouge said flatly. A program built into the cell phone disguised her voice. Annette Fletcher might be a waitress with minimal potential to interfere with Rouge's plans, but that was no excuse for laziness.

"Yes. Two people were added to Trigon's reservation, and the party was moved to a private room. The room takes up the northeast corner of the restaurant."

Rouge looked over the blueprints for the restaurant, easily finding the room. It was perfect. There were windows on two sides, and only one door leading back into the restaurant. One of the walls would be heavily reinforced, as the room was adjacent to the walk-in freezer.

"Perhaps you do possess some skill at anticipation." She disliked petty informants, but she wanted no flaws in information to foil the plan. "Do you know the purpose of this meeting?"

"No, but the room is usually for people discussing business."

Rouge had more of an idea than her informant, but she didn't have access to the reservations. They were kept in a ledger only accessible to employees. Taking the appearance of a worker was riskier than tempting one with a bribe. If Trigon saw her, he would be forewarned. He may even leave Jump City immediately, and all their planning would be for nothing. The Brotherhood of Evil did not tolerate failure. Rouge could tolerate losing a small portion of the impending profits to an ambitious bottom-feeder.

"You will call should you locate further information."

"Yes," her informant whispered.

"Should your part go well, we will be finished in correspondence tonight. The money will be deposited in the mentioned location, and your cellular phone will become useless. You will go about your life, we will go on with our goals." The money was already in place. There would be no chance of police coming onto the scene, or someone from the Justice League. Should the girl fail, Rouge had more direct ways of retribution than failing to provide the promised payment.

Rouge disconnected the call by closing the cell phone.

"We're on?" Mallah asked.

Madame Rouge allowed herself a smile. The Brotherhood of Evil's latest scheme for funding as already in motion. "We're on."


	6. Chapter 6

_The dress Kore found for Raven is comics-canon. It made one appearance. BB showed up at the precise wrong moment to say the wrong thing, and Raven threw him out of her room. Who says the show's nothing like the comic? _

_The review-responses last chapter were not cooperating in any sense of the world, but FFnet posted a message saying that the problems with reviews were solved. If the system is indeed back online, I'll send out responses for last chapter along with six's.  
_

**Chapter Six**

**Saturday June 13 5:02 P.M. **  
Victor and Garfield had spent four hours going through an extensive collection of prototype inventions and plans, deciding just which ones should make the trip to the restaurant. Jinx was happy to see that nothing was being taken for granted. Trigon had guaranteed Victor a position, but the Wayne Industries representative might want a little more justification. Jinx was sure that the prototype inventions carefully packed into a briefcase would do the trick, and was pleased with the thoroughness. She was just bored.

Victor and Garfield had not only chosen the inventions that should be shown, they had debated which features and details about each object should be mentioned. Jinx had listened to the discussion about the various precursors to Victor's current hologram-generating ring, and the features in current and future models. She had been interested by the brief discussion of how Victor had planned changes and features for his own hands, feet, and eye. They lost her with the enthusiastic discussion of the circular yellow communicators.

Jinx saw no advantage. The world already had video-capable cellular devices, and Victor's device didn't work without piggybacking onto a commercial network. When that discussion threatened to go on for another half an hour, she had left the workroom. Neither man had noticed. She didn't see them again until Victor set the briefcase of products on the kitchen table.

"Have you thought about the confidentiality agreement at all?" Jinx asked, pointedly glancing at the clock. They had less than an hour. "Ten minute drive, neither of you is dressed, and the standard agreement Garfield's parents use has eight loopholes per square inch."

Judging by the very surprised looks, her guess was right. "You could still use theirs, of course, but mine is better." Jinx floated a copy over to each of them. _Her _confidentiality agreement offered no loopholes, no ambiguous wording, and concise language. She had learned from years of listening for one or two words that would irrevocably ruin a wish.

Garfield finished reading first. "I didn't know you spoke Lawyer. Would you mind if my parents got a copy of this?" It duplicated in his hand when Jinx snapped her fingers. "Thanks!"

Victor took the time to read it twice before looking up. His copy was on a five-page carbon sheet, with room for signatures beneath three paragraphs of text. "Jinx, this is—"

"My pleasure," she interrupted, before he could say something that would just embarrass them both. "I like challenges. That language is going to face up to Trigon, Slade, and some up-and-coming from Wayne."

"The rep is going to be impressed," Garfield said confidently. "We're bringing the best projects, and the car will be out in the parking lot." Victor looked doubtful, but Garfield had already turned to put away the duplicate papers.

"Trigon already said yes. I didn't do a thing to influence him, I just created a situation so the two of you could meet." Jinx pretended not to notice that Victor looked instantly happier. There was a lot to be said for emotional honesty, but was complete transparency really necessary? The man wore his emotions on his forehead. "On the subject of meetings, shouldn't the pair of you have at least two good suits for professional meetings and conferences?"

"We each have three," Victor said.

Garfield blanched, remembering a minor detail. "Three suits at the dry cleaner's."

Jinx only smiled. "I'm very flexible with wishes when it suits me. Neither of you have a suit, so you're going to sacrifice a shirt, jacket, and pair of pants you don't want to see again. You'll end up with something that only a master tailor could replicate."

**Saturday June 13 5:12 P.M.**  
Kore was not having such an easy time of preparations for the dinner. On most occasions, she relented without a fight. Raven was fond of slim-cut suits, and Kore's involvement was limited to coaxing her friend a jewel-toned blouse or some eye-catching earrings or a new necklace. Today, though, Kore had finally found a dress that suited Raven perfectly. It brought out the color of her hair and eyes, it accentuated the chakra gem instead of clashing, and it made her skin take on a faint pink tinge. With all that, it still had a modest cut and a full skirt that allowed for the entire range of motion.

Raven had been repeating her chief objection for half an hour, and no amount of explanations, wheedling, or bribery could convince her to try it on.

"Kore, it is bright red," Raven said again, not looking up from her book.

"Would you just try on the dress, to see if my guess is correct? Please?"

"No. You'll rip the tags off, say that we can't return it, and then the thing will be stuck in my closet until I remember to put it in a donation bin." Raven heard the inflection in Kore's voice that meant the persuasion was about to begin in earnest. She put her bookmark in place and pretended to continue reading.

Kore looked from her friend to the dress. "Would you hold it before yourself in the mirror, to judge the appearance of the color?"

"No."

"Will you observe the dress on the hanger, at least?" Kore cajoled. Maybe it was a lost cause. It was sad, as she was sure that this dress would be stunning on her closest friend, but if Raven wouldn't consent to try on the dress…

"Kore… No."

Kore expertly tamped down the momentary triumph. Raven hated to disappoint her only friend, and the hesitance was already showing. Kore slowly built on the feelings of sadness and defeat. Tamaraneans battled with their emotions, and Koriand'r was no exception. This battle, however, was against Raven's fragile esteem of self. As such, Kore stared at the beautiful red dress and felt as if her heart would break. Raven would not wear the dress, with its fitted bodice and the knee-length skirt that would flare out should her friend happen to spin. She wouldn't see that the spaghetti straps on the top looked daring, but they part of the dress's built-in support. If she didn't try on the dress, Raven wouldn't know that the straight cut across the front of the bodice was flattering, but high enough that neither Raven's modesty nor Raven's father would object.

Kore dwelled on the details and the corresponding emotions until an empath on the next block would have easily felt her great sadness.

"Kore."

She looked away from the dress, and expertly hid her smile at Raven's expression. Both of them knew what was happening. Kore was feigning heartbreak loudly enough that Raven's empathic senses could read into every nuance of the pretended emotion.

"I'll try it on, but it won't look right on me. You know that I don't get along with colors that bright."

Kore beamed, "anguish" forgotten. "We'll see."

**Saturday June 13 5:43 P.M.**  
Richard straightened his tie and tugged at his cuffs. Both were useless gestures, as his mentor was three thousand miles away, but he felt like he was about to walk into Bruce Wayne's office to "pick up a file" on the way to an important meeting. Richard pressed number two on his cell's speed dial. (Number one was the manor phone line. Alfred was much better about answering the phone, most days.) Bruce answered halfway through the first ring.

"Richard, how do you feel?"

"Pretty good, a little nervous. Trigon added two people to the dinner meeting about four hours ago, and mentioned that one of them is the lead engineer for our start-up technology company."

"Talk terms with him. Trigon isn't the type to throw his weight around on principle. If he suddenly has an idea…" Richard could hear keys tapping in the background as Bruce paused. "Nine out of ten ideas fly, when Trigon does something unexpected. One in ten go under because of fiscal mismanagement or unreliable employees. Our company has one of the best reputations out there for fiscal know-how, and when our employees do go bad it's in a spectacular way."

Richard smiled faintly, remembering a few of those incidents. They tended to involve Gotham's costumed villains. "So, this is a good thing? Trigon wants me to meet the engineer. I talked to Trigon's personal assistant, who gave the implication that if Wayne doesn't like the new guy as lead, Trigon Industries will be happy to snap this man up. Complete unknown, but he fixed Trigon's limo today on the side of the road."

"Trigon has the concept-car limousine."

"The one that people thought was pretty batty, yeah." That was the closest insinuation that Richard would ever make on the phone. Bruce would understand, and neither would say anything more about it. That technology was six months from making it into the Batmobile, and there was a man up for an interview who could fix it. "The assistant didn't say much at all, but I'll go in with an open mind. Trigon's bringing five people, so I'll have plenty of time to listen and look smart."

"You've been spending too much time with Alfred," Bruce said, sounding very much as if he approved. "Just as cynical. It'll be good on you to head into the restaurant early for a brief meeting with the proprietor, especially since Trigon's a repeat customer. Look around at the décor, admire the smells, ask after the wine list…"

"Check the exits and look for shady characters when he shows off the dining room," Richard finished. He spent a good part of his day as Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne's adopted ward and protégé. He spent a good part of his nights trying to clean up Bludhaven as Nightwing, when not training with Batman and the kid with a mind to be the next Robin.

"You'll…" Bruce stopped. "You'll do very well today, I'm sure of it."

"Thanks, Bruce."

"I'll probably be out when you're through with your meeting," Bruce said. Richard's company cell phone wasn't secured, and would never transmit a message about Batman.

"I'll call Alfred when I'm done. He can pass on the details about the deal, and about what came up on your schedule," Richard promised. "I'll head over to the restaurant now."

Richard Grayson was a veteran superhero. He had spent years as Robin, and had independently worked as Nightwing for the last three years. He had fought against all Gotham's and Bludhaven's supervillains, including Clayface. Even experience fighting an opponent that can change his face, however, gives no real advantage in anticipating similar fights in the future. When Richard Grayson parked his car near the lot's back road exit, he paid little attention to the couple sitting on the bench across the street.

Anyone could have made the same mistake. Richard was one of the few people who would be able to realize just what his mistake was, later: the dark-haired woman's movements were too fluid as she craned her neck to stare at him, and her one-eyed companion looked vaguely familiar.


	7. Chapter 7

_The payoff for the foreshadowing begins this chapter. I think the chapters for the rest of the story will be longer, but it depends on how scenes play out. I'm not sure about the number of chapters for the story just yet ("write until the plot is resolved and the characters stop nagging"), but I'm imagining something longer than Red and about a quarter of Dance. The tentative estimate is fifteen chapters, but I don't like planning so much that there's no room for the characters to surprise me. _

_Reviews are always appreciated. Encourage me to post three chapters inside of a week more often—positive reinforcement does wonders, right? _

**Chapter Seven **

**Saturday June 13, 5:43 P.M.**  
Jinx poked Garfield in the shoulder. She reached through the passenger seat to do so, but her index finger was corporeal even as her hand was translucent smoke. It took no conscious effort on her part. "Free career advice," she said. "Don't go into law. Your brain doesn't twist in the right way, and you don't have the cold in your blood to really enjoy the way cases work."

"There have to be a few lost idealistic souls in the business," Gar protested.

"They're broke, they're miserable, and a good chunk of them end up selling their soul to Slade's boss." Jinx grinned at the shock on Garfield's face. "If I told you that 'gullible' wasn't included in most dictionaries, you'd go look it up to prove me wrong. You're nice, you trust people, and your brain doesn't like twisting to find its way out of a sentence."

"As fascinating as the idea of Gar in law school is…" Victor prompted.

"Right, Mr. Physics wants an answer." Jinx didn't seem perturbed that someone wanted to stay on topic. "I don't know if I have a direct answer for why some things need a wish and why other things are a piece of cake. Turning a torn-up pair of jeans into a very nice pair of tailored suit pants is easy. It'd be like... Garfield running around the block. I'm using the material, altering the appearance and structure."

"Could you make a suit out of nothing?" Victor asked.

"Yes." Jinx grimaced. "I'd rather not, but it is possible. I'd probably stretch my definitions a bit so that air is included in nothing. I'd rather transmute air into a suit than start creating matter from scratch… and don't pull that look with me, physics-boy, this is big magic. Wish-magic. When you're holding that bottle, and you make a wish, it has to happen. Period. The only exception that comes to mind is a wish for more wishes."

"So, turning jeans into these is like me running around the block." Garfield tugged at the pants for emphasis. It had been the oddest fitting of his life. The entire process had taken under thirty seconds for every detail to be finished, and he had watched the denim and cotton change to dark linen. "What's it like to turn air into a suit?"

"Imagine how long it takes for you to run around the block. Now, skip around the world in half that time."

"Ow."

Jinx grinned. "It's kind of a rush, actually. The wish has to happen, so I have enough power to make that happen. Forcefully, if I can't finesse it. I'd rather not make things completely difficult for myself, though, so I try to steer people towards wishes that are actually useful. I can Fairy Godmother it up on my own steam."

Garfield scowled playfully. "Okay, I resent that one."

Jinx poked him again. "Hey, good things happen! Vic's on his way to the ball, here, I get to joke around. I'm staying out of sight for the entire dinner party to keep Trigon happy. I need to get my share of jokes in sometime." Jinx stared up at a few of the skyscrapers, seemingly at random. "This town's getting huge. I don't remember a few of these buildings. Would you stay around here if you were picking places, Victor, or try your chances somewhere else?"

Victor frowned thoughtfully as he made his way through rush-hour traffic. "My dad's still in this area, but so is STAR Labs. They don't collaborate and they don't share ideas, so I'd rather go to an area where I'd actually draw something to the city. Here, I'd be competing for every scientist and technician I got."

Garfield hadn't thought that far ahead. His best friend might have the chance of a lifetime, and it wouldn't be in California. His thoughts must have shown in his expression, if Jinx had fixed him with a sympathetic look.

"Cheer up, Gar, it's going to work out just fine," Jinx said confidently. "I'll be right on scene. Vic's right suit pocket is bottle-approved. I'll make it all work out right."

"Precognition isn't power that comes with being a jinn." Victor expected a joking denial.

Jinx only smiled. "It's all going to end up just fine. You've got me on your side, right?"

**Saturday June 13, 6:13 P.M.**  
Slade Wilson's only consolation was that his Black RaspBerry had to be on, and he had to continue checking the messages. If "special business" consented to occur, Slade would even have an excuse to leave the interminable meeting. There were regular uprisings on the demon side of holdings, and Slade would be on the phone for hours straightening out ruffled feathers and calling in every favor he had wrangled to smooth out the spat. It was not at all the life he had imagined for himself, but Slade had been out of options. Trigon had restored his life, but the price had been steeper than imagined.

The dinner meeting was more horrid than usual, which was saying something. Slade was to the right of Victor Stone, which he imagined to be a snub. Trigon had taken the seat between Victor Stone and Richard Grayson. The three of them quickly proved to be thick as thieves, and just as friendly.

Slade frowned at the RaspBerry. There was no harm in an inner monologue, but it was less satisfying when no one else could appreciate a barb. If he had just one stroke of luck, all of that could change. It would take something impressive, but all it would take was one instance where fate was on his side. Skill, brains, and strength would do him little good against Trigon, for all his planning.

Meeting with Madam Rouge had been an unexpected opportunity. She had fascinating ideas for making money, but her team's reconnaissance left much to be desired. Rouge had known that Trigon was an impressive businessman with the ability to hire the very best, but hadn't been able to deduce that the man and the demon were the same. It was to be expected, Slade supposed. Rouge and Mallah seemed to be pulling all the weight for the Brotherhood, recently, and their support base was shrinking rapidly. If his information was correct, their largest recent purchase was his old base. Rouge hadn't admitted as much in their brief chat, but he hadn't admitted to his current association with Trigon. He had only told her to hold off on whatever plans she had for half an hour, and to look much more closely at Trigon before making any moves she may regret.

Slade had an idea about the Brotherhood's goals, given Rouge's presence across the street from the restaurant's less prestigious entrance, but didn't feel the need to warn Trigon. If it was truly a matter to concern Trigon, then the demon should be more in touch with current events. He trusted the care of his daughter to a naïve alien girl with more strength than cunning. Slade sincerely doubted that Koriand'r could counter anything but a direct assault.

He half-listened as Trigon's latest fascination presented a few pieces of technology that sounded promising. In Slade's experience, nothing worked that well. Victor Stone was a visionary angling for funding. It would be nice if one ring could disguise the entire body, but no project Slade had seen worked. Full-body concealment remained the best bet for someone wishing to be in disguise.

That was Slade's stance. It changed the instant that Victor Stone treated them to a demonstration, and removed a class ring from his right middle finger. His entire body transformed, presumably, but only his hands and head showed the changes. Slade caught an odd ripple in cloth as Victor moved to replace the ring, from a vestige of his old reflexes when he'd had better things to do than send e-mails for Trigon.

At first, he thought that Victor Stone was carrying a gun. It took only half a moment to discount that idea. The shape had been the complete wrong size and shape. It was small and cylindrical, and would easily fit in Slade's hand.

It was a completely irrational thought, which meant that it might be a gut instinct kicking in with the right idea. Slade played it cool, and there was not even a flicker of excitement to alert Trigon's obnoxious progeny. Victor Stone was having an incredible run of luck. There had been a third person in the car with him uninjured by the crash, one that he had not seen despite glancing in the rear-view mirror. Trigon and Kore had seen her, easily, while Raven wasn't sure that she had seen anyone. Slade pointedly glanced at the windows before removing his suit jacket.

Trigon caught on instantly. "Good idea, Slade, we might be here a long while. It gets too hot in California to keep with the formalities the entire time."

Slade ignored the polite conversation with the "ladies," about how they were clever enough to wear something with no sleeves. He pretended to focus intently on some new e-mail coming in on his Black RaspBerry, but he was watching Victor Stone's right pocket gap to reveal a brilliantly pink glass bottle. Stone wasn't the type for perfume.

"Trigon, something's come up," Slade said, hurriedly replacing the suit jacket. His rush made him clumsy, and his arm knocked against Stone as he moved. His hand happened to slip against the right suit pocket. "My apologies, Mr. Stone." The overcompensating swing of his other arm drew attention, and the bottle was indeed small enough to fit neatly into his right hand. He tucked it into his pocket in the same motion, and felt the weight as he stood. Slade had both hands on the RaspBerry as he headed for the door. Conversation resumed, and Victor was instantly drawn back into communication about his hologram-generating rings. With luck, the man wouldn't know that anything was amiss until it was far too late.

Slade could head straight for the bench across from the parking lot, but he had plenty of time before the deadline he had imposed on Rouge. He would get the situation under control, and then inform Rouge and Mallah of the changes that made their ridiculous plan possible. Instead, he walked calmly to his car, typing nonsense into his RaspBerry as he walked. Two of the room's walls were entirely made out of windows, and Trigon might just be watching him. He would drive to an out-of-sight area, and everyone would assume that he was in search of better reception. In truth, he was looking for an area where he would not be subject to curious gazes.

If this worked, he'd burn the RaspBerry. With napalm.

**Saturday June 13, 6:28 P.M.**  
Jinx knew something was up. She just didn't know quite what until the stopper of the bottle came out, and she saw someone that definitely was not Victor or Garfield. From Gar's description, he looked a lot like Slade. She'd never pictured the man hanging around in an underground parking structure, but there they were. No other cars were present, and the sodium-vapor lights gave both of them an unattractive yellow tinge.

She suppressed her initial reaction for one of her more charming smiles, and the trick of sitting cross-legged on absolutely nothing. Jinx almost regretted her choice of look, now, but maybe it was for the best. Let Slade underestimate her because she was wearing a pair of spectacularly ripped jeans and a fitted black-and-purple t-shirt. To finish off the impression of "clueless schoolgirl with a perfume bottle accessory," she had bare feet, canary yellow toenail polish, and a careless ponytail.

"Hey, new winner on the magical lottery!" Jinx said when the man didn't say a word. "So, you're not quick with the introductions, but I'll guess that you're Slade Wilson. I'm Jinx." She would have held out her hand, but that would have led to the awkward moment when she stood there and he stared at her. She settled for shooting off a few pink sparks from the end of her fingers.

"Your guess is correct." He looked at her for a moment, then considered the bottle in his hand. "You were assisting Victor Stone."

"Yes, but to be fair I just gave him the chance at all of the above. Twist a few strands of things-to-be around, hope for the best, and there you have it. Shiny new career." Jinx was already getting bored with the default expression on Slade's face, that look that implied she was less interesting than what he had scraped from the bottom of his shoes. "Wish consultation is free and highly recommended. Any ideas what you want for number one? The only rule that comes to mind is that you can't wish for more wishes. Three's the magic number."

Slade smirked. Jinx decided that it really wasn't an improvement from his previous expression.

"I wish," he began slowly, "that you will obey every order, command, and instruction that I say to you, while doing nothing to subvert my ability to give said direction."

Jinx frowned. She couldn't find any immediate loopholes, and she didn't like that wish. "You could have just asked."

"That," Slade said coolly, "would give the potential for refusal. You will not tell Trigon or Koriand'r of my part in any of the business to follow, nor give information to any person who will proceed to inform them. You will not tell through word, action, inaction, writing, or implication."

Jinx's brow furrowed as she thought. "Okay, again with the attitude problem. I could help you adjust that, no wish required. I'll guess that you have some kind of plan, if you're coming on strong with wish one and don't show any signs of slowing down. Are you going to tell me what's going on, or try to micromanage this show from the driver's seat?"

"You will learn of your part as necessary," Slade said curtly.

Jinx pulled a face at him when Slade stalked away, clearly expecting her to follow. He wasn't fun. Maybe she'd get to have words with Victor, sometime, for letting a sleazeball steal something right out of his pocket. She just might see him again, especially if Slade was sticking around in Jump City for some kind of errand. As a matter of fact, she might make a point of finding Victor. She hadn't been exposed to anyone as irritating as Slade since that idiot struggling with a GPS just outside of Albuquerque.

Slade thought he had everything under control, including her. He was wrong, but what was the fun in telling him that straight off? She hadn't found a loophole in wish one, but already had two different ways to circumvent the first pair of commands. Jinx would let him have his fun for a couple days, if only to see what he was trying, and then set the man straight on genies, wishes, and precisely why mortals didn't give orders to fire-demons.

**Saturday June 13, 7:03 P.M.**  
The dinner had been excellent. Richard Grayson was willing to take a portion of the blame for what happened next. He realized that he couldn't have actually caused events to occur, and that cause-and-effect relationships aren't truly affected by the stray thoughts to cross a person's mind…

Richard had considered that this was the most prestigious event he had ever attended with no interruption from a costumed villain. It was only natural for him to remember this, considering his company. Victor Stone had been almost casual in revealing a little of his past history, and had been kind enough to demonstrate several amazing features of his prosthetics that were decades ahead of current models. Garfield Logan was the child of two scientists that Bruce had been recruiting for decades, but the Logans were completely loyal to STAR Labs. They would accept Wayne Foundation funding for their public-works projects, but their profitable works all benefited STAR.

Slade Wilson was still oddly familiar in a way Richard couldn't place, and had left before the appetizers even arrived. He hadn't contributed much in the way of conversation, however, so he hadn't been much missed. Trigon was extremely exuberant, and much friendlier than most CEOs. When he was interested in a project, such as Victor's hologram-generating rings or new ideas for delivering alternative energy to a car's energy, he made it clear to everyone at the table. His daughter Raven was as quiet as her father was loud, but Richard had heard a few snatches of a second conversation. Raven seemed bored with talk about the business details, but her neighbor was polite enough to start small talk. Raven and Garfield Logan were talking about pushy friends and books, from the few things that Richard had heard.

Kore was a different matter. She was an odd mix of overprotective friend and easygoing dinner guest, who would occasionally ask a pointed question about some aspect of the business. Mostly, however, she studiously ignored her friend and looked faintly smug.

They had finished the entrée when Richard had the forbidden thought. No one had attacked them for the entire meal. The superstitious feeling that followed the thought was natural. The group was eclectic even for Gotham standards, and he wasn't just Richard Grayson, heir to the Wayne fortune, rising star in the business world. That status meant a yearly visits from Poison Ivy, and maybe Penguin trying for a bribe. He was also Robin, lately Nightwing, which put him on first-name terms with all the rogues Gotham had to offer.

It wasn't that only Wayne parties were targeted for costumed villains saving up for their latest "kill the Batman and the little Robin too" spree. Anyone of a certain social caliber expected to be attacked. It was practically a mark of the social class in Gotham, like owning a certain number of luxury cars or vacationing in the right places. Richard had just been the one to disappear to the bathroom (or the car, or under a table, or into the gardens), reappear in costume to fight off the criminal, and later reappear as a dazed and innocent party guest that had no idea what had just happened.

He had only thought about it. It had been the first dinner meeting in months where no one had come crashing through the window.

Within seconds, Trigon had slumped forward, unconscious. Kore screamed a war cry in a foreign language, leaping to her feet, but she fell forward in the next moment.

For half a moment, Richard swore he was seeing things. Raven had stood, so fast that the knee-length red dress flared out around her. Her eyes seemed to catch the color from the dress and hold it in an unnaturally red flare, even as black streaked from her hands— but in the next moment, she sat heavily in her chair, conscious but winded.

"They're alive," Raven said, expression promising retribution. "We're being watched, I would imagine, so someone must have hit them with a tranquilizer."

Richard would swear that she was lying, but had no better explanation. The windows were intact, the door was closed, and two of the six people in the room were unconscious. Raven looked winded. "Enemies?"

"My father's far from popular." Raven stood, bracing herself against her chair. "Kore's my bodyguard, and was much more of a threat than she may have appeared."

"I had guessed that, if your father trusted your safety with no further guards," Richard said. He had noticed Kore's warrior stance, especially paired with the wide smile and the lavender dress, but now was not the time. "Victor, how much can you sense?"

"I have heartbeats on both of them, in a range that feels about normal," Victor said instantly. "Gar, now's probably not the best time, but kidnappers don't like special, alright?"

Richard watched as the two of them exchanged a look. They were old friends, if they instantly understood each other with no further words. Victor had moved to the door, and Garfield had moved to clumsily cover Raven, even as the windows across both outside walls shattered at once. Gar didn't flinch, and Victor's posture only turned aggressive.

Richard had seen only a flash of an impossibly long arm, but that was enough for his mind to flash back. "Shit." Slade Wilson didn't _look _familiar, he sounded familiar, because Deathstroke the masked assassin was missing that eye and had been off the radar since a "fatal" accident. No hero had trusted news of the man's death. Slade had been speaking with a flexible nondescript woman, who was now breaking open windows with a flexible limb.

He was sending a text message on his cell phone without taking his eyes off the windows. He had moved to cover Raven, the likeliest target with Trigon and Kore out of commission, but could send the gist of the situation to Bruce in a minute.

_Bruce. Will be delayed. Rouge and Slade kidnapping Raven Trigon. Logan Jr. and I going along for the ride. Don't wait up more than 2 days. R. _

He pressed Send just as Rouge and Mallah showed themselves. Richard dropped the cell phone. It was better than letting Rouge have anything that could trace back to Bruce. Batman could take care of himself, but the last thing they needed was a new costumed baddie snooping around the manor. With that message, he'd bought himself some peace. Signing as Richard meant trouble, R meant that he could handle it. The Brotherhood thought that he was a civilian, and Richard knew there was something different about Raven.

"Miss Raven." Rouge smiled coolly. "You will come with us, will you not? It would be a shame for your father and companion to come to tragedy while helpless."

"Garfield. Richard. You don't need to be involved," Raven hissed.

Richard and Garfield glanced at each other. "Little late for that," Richard said quietly.

Garfield smiled apologetically, but didn't back down at Raven's very disapproving glare. "It'd be way easier to just drag us along, if she's going," Garfield announced bravely.

Mallah scowled, unimpressed. "Why would we want a couple snots like you?"

Richard stepped forward to challenge him. He'd faced worse than an overgrown gorilla. Hell, he'd already faced an overgrown gorilla back home in Bludhaven. "I'm Bruce Wayne's ward and only heir. Gar's parents are loaded. Our guardians would rather pay up than hear we let you take her alone."

Rouge smirked. "You won't fight for her freedom?"

"Not when we'd lose and just leave her worse off, no," Garfield retorted.

Raven was still glaring daggers at both of her elective helpers, but they didn't so much as turn around. "Victor, would you please look out for Kore and my father?" she asked politely.

"To the best of my ability. You have my word."

Raven nodded curtly. Her powers had abandoned her, and she had no chance of beating Rouge or Mallah in hand-to-hand combat. It would be far smarter to go quietly and plan an escape later. When she was back, she could murder Kore for talking her into the dress and the high heels.

Richard led the way. Garfield and Victor had a four-second conversation, speaking too quietly for him to overhear anything but a murmur. Raven was fully composed as she accepted Richard's help through the window frame, and as the three of them were promptly escorted to the back of a van with no windows on the back compartment. Garfield jumped up first to hand her into the car, Richard spotted her from the ground, and the three of them were the calmest kidnapping victims the Brotherhood of Evil could ever hope to have.

Richard was already planning their way out. He had asked for two days, and he just might have them. Should that deadline pass… Bruce was a lot more protective than he let on, and the Justice League might just decide that the Brotherhood of Evil merited a visit.

**Saturday June 13, 7:36 P.M.**  
Kore and Trigon were unconscious for a little over half an hour. Victor had already dealt with the restaurant owner, given a preliminary statement to the police, filed a report with the Justice League's civilian outreach program, and moved Kore back into her chair after the paramedics decided that neither Kore nor Trigon seemed injured or drugged in any way. As far as the EMT training was concerned, Kore and Trigon were perfectly fine. They just weren't conscious.

Victor didn't realize the real problem until Kore and Trigon started to come around. Madam Rouge and Mallah had kidnapped Raven. Kore and Trigon, who were notoriously overprotective of their charge, were going to wake up and find her gone. Victor was going to have a strange story, a few very confused eyewitnesses, shattered glass, and his electronic eye's video playback to reassure them that he'd had nothing to do with Raven's disappearance.

Maybe Garfield and Richard weren't as crazy as Victor thought.

Victor had one ally left, and had about five seconds to ask if she would bring Trigon up to speed. He was sure that she could smooth the entire affair out, even if it took a carefully worded wish—

Victor's hand found the bottom of his empty right suit pocket just as Kore and Trigon stirred. Jinx was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

_Good news: I'm back at school, I'll be done with the MCAT for good on September 4, my secondary application to my top-choice medical school will be in by the 10th, I have an advising appointment with people from said medical school on the eighth, and I'm working on a common medical application. I'm excited about all my classes, I have no classes on Fridays, and I'm a senior.  
_

_Bad news: school is starting up, my classes are all 400-level or better (meaning they'll be a big time-commitment), and I'll have less time for writing. Reviewers remain appreciated, even if responses will be delayed.  
_

**Chapter Eight**

**Saturday June 13, 7:38 P.M.**  
Victor was on his own. He had prototype sonic cannons built into his arms, but he'd never quite learned how the things worked. He wasn't supposed to have the weapons, or so many different ways to adapt his limbs, or the entire list of settings for his artificial eye, but his dad hadn't worked with commercial prosthetics. Victor had nearly died in a lab accident, and his father had saved his life with experimental prostheses that had been intended for the military. In theory, he could defend himself and others with the things. In practice, his dad had talked really fast and called in seventeen favors in the space of a week. Officially, nobody in the government knew that Victor Stone could hypothetically be classified as a metahuman. He had repaid the favor by pretending those features didn't exist, but right about now that seemed like very poor planning.

Now that Trigon and Kore were sitting up, and focusing entirely on him, Victor wished that he'd taken the sonic cannons out for a spin at least once. He didn't think they'd do much good against the two of them, but he might have had a chance.

"Madam Rouge and Mallah kidnapped Raven. She was the only target, but Richard and Garfield made it clear that they weren't being left behind without a struggle. Raven, Richard, and Garfield are gone." Victor had already decided against showing the entire scene, but he could project video playback of the pertinent points as he spoke. If they believed him faster, then he was saving time. "Raven wanted someone to make sure the two of you were okay. You both were out cold, and Madam Rouge was making threats against you to force Raven to cooperate."

Trigon's eyes narrowed. "Show the entire scene, please, double-time. Skip the dialogue."

Victor scratched at the back of his neck as the video drew to a close. The truth was stranger than fiction, and no lie would cover everything. "I think I know what happened. I can only think of one explanation for something that would take out both of you. The windows were intact until Rouge broke them. The door was closed."

Kore's expression was much more encouraging than Trigon's glower.

Victor kept his focus on Trigon. "Until about half an hour ago, I had a genie on my side. She set up the chance for me to meet with you. Nothing else. Jinx said your car would have failed, she just played with the timing to give me a shot at fixing it."

Trigon grunted. "Should've known. The rookie's fingerprints are all over this mess."

Victor wanted to ask. He really wanted to ask, but Kore was already talking.

"Slade," she spat. "I have said that the man is a zordmorking chlorbag. He collided with Victor just before leaving, and may have used that occasion to steal the bottle of the genie."

Trigon's eyes flared yellow, but nothing else about the man changed even as the muscles of his neck strained. "There's a genie at work, alright," he growled. "Nothing else would hold me back, and not many people have enough information to do this. Slade knows what genies can do, and knows what I'd do to him if I was at my full strength." He clenched his hand into a fist. "Rouge and Mallah don't have the resources to do this, but with Slade…"

"We will be prepared fully, Trigon," Kore soothed, though she looked just as furious. "Perhaps it is for the best that we know our opponent, yes?"

The bright glare in Trigon's eyes dimmed, and he once again resembled a silver-haired businessman with nothing more memorable than a bright red tie. "That's one thing in our favor. Damn bottles are nearly impossible to keep for the full three wishes, and I have a good chance of predicting what Slade will do."

"There, we have settled one matter as far as we are currently able," Kore said decisively. She gestured to the room. The floor was littered with shards of glass, two of the seven chairs were overturned, and several of the dishes had been broken. "I see no evidence of blood, Victor Stone. Am I correct in thinking that Raven and the two gentlemen were unhurt?"

"All three cooperated, and as far as I could see no one picked up as much as a bruise," Victor said. "Any powers Raven has were knocked off-line a second after you two were down for the count." Victor paused to consider his options. Trigon's eyes had already glowed without anything breaking, and Kore seemed friendly. "Jinx mentioned your backgrounds, briefly. I won't ask for details, but if you need to talk about something special I can back out."

Kore's only response to that was a blinding smile. "I am glad that we all are upon the same page. I feel that my usual abilities remain severely lessened, but I still may startle someone who does not know of my background."

"All of this just started today," Victor warned. "Jinx said something about Tamaran, but I don't know where or what that is."

"Tamaran is my home planet," Kore said. "Perhaps I will share my story another time, but for now our priority must be the rescue of Raven. Garfield Logan and Richard Grayson were brave in their insistence upon accompanying her, but I fear that their presence will complicate matters."

"You don't think they're after a ransom?" Victor asked.

Trigon scowled. "That's what Mallah and Rouge wanted, but soon enough they'll realize just who they have." His fists were clenched hard enough to break human bones. "I should have guessed the instant the car broke down at the exact right moment, when I was in town to meet with Wayne's man… Maybe it's to our advantage that there's a genie behind all this." He pressed his palms together.

"Jinx?"

"She's only been doing this nine years. She doesn't know a thing about the old prophecies, or half-demons. If it an older jinn were forced to bind a half-demon, then Raven would be in trouble." Trigon watched Victor's expression, and seemed to be satisfied. "As it is, Slade and Jinx don't know half of what my girl can do. Raven will help us from the inside, but that's no reason to get sloppy."

"We must first locate the Brotherhood in order to free Raven."

Trigon paced the narrow room, with no care for the shards of broken glass covering the floor. "I don't know a thing about this town, but we're already burning daylight. Damn Slade has my contacts list with the minor favors, but I'll need the big ones to have any pull in this town. I need city records, or just occupancy reports, police complaints…"

"I can help you with that," Victor said confidently. "If I can't convince the system that I'm a friendly computer on the same network, then I'll hack in. My best friend's in there next to her."

Kore beamed. "Glorious, friend Victor."

Trigon didn't comment. He looked over the small dining room, glittering with shattered glass and surrounded by yellow crime scene tape. "If all else fails, I'll dial up the Justice League and offer a deal. They get my daughter back, and I can handle any issue with demons they have in the next two years. I'd rather not deal with the League, but I'm not losing her and I'm not letting the damned prophecy happen."

"We will need to plan," Kore urged, laying a hand on Trigon's arm. When he took a deep breath, she continued. "I recommend convening in our rooms within the hotel."

"Fine," Trigon said. "You're with us, Stone, until you decide otherwise."

**Saturday June 13, 7:39 P.M.**  
Rouge tapped her fingers impatiently as an outdated computer system slowly booted up. She had not admitted the reason that it was not already running, and had not needed to say a word. Slade had been able to see that the Brotherhood's largest piece of property in Jump City was in poor shape. The underground base had functioned as an auxiliary headquarters for the defunct H.I.V.E. Academy. The headmaster of that sad little institute had been carted off to prison nine years ago, and this neglected base had been hers for the reclaiming. Rouge didn't have to admit that nearly all the renovation done was thanks to Slade's genie.

She could chance stealing the bottle from Slade, but the man wasn't stupid. There was some other precaution, if the man would openly carry the bottle, and Rouge couldn't risk the operation for the promise of even greater wealth. Mallah had cautioned her of that very thing, as if she couldn't figure it out for herself. Unless Rouge had an ironclad way to procure the genie's services with no opportunity for revenge by Slade, Rouge would behave herself. Slade would earn half of the profits from the venture, but that wasn't such a bitter pill to swallow. His involvement had allowed the plan to succeed, and she could reward such an action.

Her informants had somehow neglected to mention Trigon's true identity. Rouge had a record of their names, and soon she and Mallah would have the resources to punish the cowards that had wanted the Brotherhood eliminated. With Slade's help, and Slade's genie, they would do just fine.

The computer hummed to life. Only one in five of the security cameras were still on-line, but that was much better than she had anticipated. Mallah was currently taking a turn patrolling the corridors, and Slade was busy in one of the larger rooms. They had bought his warehouse, and his full complement of Sladebots would make excellent guards if he was able to repair them.

Rouge had little guarantee for Slade's loyalty, but she knew one thing. Slade despised Trigon, and more than anything wanted Trigon to suffer. Additional profit was secondary, at least for the week.

"Mallah to Rouge. Is the PA system online?"

Rouge smiled as his voice echoed through the control room. "Public address system is coming through loud and clear, Mallah. I'll take the next patrol whenever you like." According to the very detailed plans left in the control room, their voices would travel throughout the entire basement… except for the small, soundproofed cell in the rear of the complex. Rouge would be sure to check that on her circuit of the underground base. That room had two dim electric lights on a closed circuit, tiny vents for the blind-ended circulation system that would barely fit three mice, and manual locks.

Trigon, Koriand'r, and Raven would be entirely without their powers until Slade consented to return them. Rouge just might have to look into finding a genie of her own, or seriously consider a good way to steal from Slade. The possibilities were amazing.

**Saturday June 13, 7:42 P.M.**  
Garfield Logan was not an expert, in any sense of the word. He had a master's degree in genetics, but researchers blew their noses on master's degrees and he'd never thought of a dissertation topic. His parents threw at least one option his way per month, but nothing looked worth it to him. Earning a doctorate meant devoting three years of your life to one tiny little problem or sequence of events, writing up a giant report that no one but your committee would ever read unless they were desperate for a reference, and then moving on to being a Fellow in some lab or other. For the rest of his life, he'd only be useful to his employers if he could draw money into the lab in the form of grants. Gar would barely have time to inoculate broth. He'd be in his office, writing letters to convince other people that his ideas were worth money, while he spent so much time away from the actual work that he forgot why the ideas were actually important.

He should have told his parents months ago, but when they both made time for him it was overwhelming. They would sit down to dinner, his parents would look at him like he was the best son in the history of having male babies, and all of his speeches about direction and different lives faded into some joke about life in the lab.

After this, Garfield was going to have a coherent explanation ready before the appetizers were gone. He wasn't sure why he had thought that being kidnapped was a great idea, but he was pretty sure it would be worse if Raven had been alone. He knew it would be worse if he weren't a third body in the room. He had been steadfastly ignoring his two companions for the last five minutes, but listing his parents' articles in order by publication date could only distract him for so long. He chanced opening his eyes when he didn't hear yelling.

He'd stayed in worse hotel rooms, actually. The room was pretty small, and the minimalist metal on the floors, walls, and ceiling was pretty monotonous, but the room did have circulating air. Richard had been eyeing the tiny air vents, but Garfield could tell him in five seconds that those vents didn't lead anywhere interesting. Really, Garfield's sense of smell wasn't much better than anyone else's when he hadn't shifted into an animal. His perception of smell, however, was another matter. He could have described all the scents coming through the vent, but Richard and Raven had been glaring at each other again.

Even now, they were sitting on absolute opposite ends of the room. Richard was facing the door, but somehow ignoring the woman sitting three feet from it. Raven looked less comfortable, as she had her legs tucked awkwardly to the side. The red dress was beautiful, but the knee-length gown wasn't practical for this. Not that anyone really planned to be kidnapped, but Garfield couldn't help but notice that half of her leg was in full contact with the metal floor. It wasn't cold, exactly, but it was cool enough that it would bother him. She was studying the walls, with the exception of the area directly surrounding Richard.

_Please don't bite my head off _was Garfield's chief thought as he pulled off his suit jacket. He transferred the few items to his pants pocket. Garfield had grabbed one of Victor's prototype communicators, but Madam Rouge had not been about to leave that with him. She didn't see the harm in leaving him a pair of silver rings, however, so he had an old model of a hologram generator. He had no idea if that would be any help at all, but it was all he had left besides the credit card linked to his parents' account, for emergencies.

The jacket was only linen, but it was better than nothing. Garfield was in the middle of the room, underneath the two tiny air vents, and he wasn't quite six feet from Raven. He tossed it so it would land exactly on her legs, and began talking in the same instant. He had Raven's full attention, even if she looked ready to be angry, and Richard's gaze had snapped to follow the motion.

"Um, hi. I know that both of you really think that you know what we should be doing, but I couldn't hear either of you earlier," Garfield began. "I'm not going to take sides in this. From what I've heard, you both have good ideas. I'd rather get out if at all possible, but we'd still have to get past Rouge, Mallah, and Slade. Besides that, I'm ninety-five percent sure that Slade has a genie working for him right now."

Raven didn't look very surprised. "Something must have happened, or Kore would be here by now. If it was my father doing the rescuing, everyone would know."

"That's our only option?" Richard asked, incredulous. "The Brotherhood of Evil kidnaps a known heiress, and we're going to assume that a genie is involved?"

Garfield couldn't answer that question. "Um, Raven? I know the genie in question, and she's a bit of a gossip. I know a bit about your dad, your mom, and Kore."

"When did you find out?"

"After I met you for the first time," Garfield said. "Jinx didn't want anyone to be too surprised, I guess. She mentioned just who would be able to see her when she was trying to hide."

Raven had been staring just past Gar, but she came back to herself abruptly. Garfield thought that she had worn the same expression at the start of the meeting, right before Trigon warmed up to Richard. "Alright. Usually, people head for the hills or the holy water, but I'm glad that you know." She turned to Richard, who had been impatiently listening to the cryptic conversation. "You know all the information you need, Mr. Grayson, but you haven't connected two very large dots. I am Trigon's only daughter."

"Right."

"My father was Trigon the Terrible."

Richard stared from Raven to Garfield, as if one of them was about to remind him that it was April Fool's Day, but then looked back to Raven. "Wow," he said. "So, we believe a genie is involved because someone knocked out Trigon without a tranquilizer dart, and stopped your brief display of power right in its tracks. You're still blocked?"

"Mostly," Raven said, closing her eyes as she concentrated. "I will be able to do a few small things, but those abilities may be blocked the instant another knows of them."

"I'm pretty sure they're not listening now, but no twenty questions," Garfield agreed. "So, if we're going around the room, my secret-that-isn't-a-secret is that when I was eight my parents could have entered me in any science fair in the world and walked out with top honors. Everybody knows that playing Scrabble with my DNA made me green and cured sakutia. Maybe six people know about the other side effects. If we end up needing to make a fast exit…" Garfield decided the statement would sound like a boast, should the Brotherhood be listening in. "I could take Mallah."

That had their full attention, and in an uncomfortable way. Garfield knew he didn't look like much of a threat. The perfectly tailored button-down shirt showed that he had no real muscle mass in his biceps, and he had always been skinny. He shifted awkwardly under the scrutiny, and probably looked even less like someone capable of taking on a gigantic gorilla.

"I'm sure, alright?" Garfield said. "This is a really bad time for bravado."

Raven nodded first. "I think that Rouge would underestimate me. Slade knows me too well for any of my usual tricks to work, and I can't touch any of my usual fighting abilities."

"Leaving Slade for me," Richard said.

Raven didn't say a word. She did raise an eyebrow, and grant him one of the most skeptical looks since Robin had offered to drive the Batmobile.

"No details, right?" Richard couldn't explain. It wasn't just that he was Nightwing, and that nobody was supposed to know that Richard Grayson was a superhero. If people knew about him, then they'd look around. Bruce, Barbara, Tim, Cassie, Stephanie… He wouldn't risk his family. "It's not an easy story, anyway."

Garfield yielded first, if only to keep the conversation moving. "No details," he confirmed easily. "You do know that Slade's an ex-assassin and general badass who hates Trigon and everybody around him, and if you say you can do it then you have a reason. This is all hypothetical, anyway. If Rouge just wants money, and Slade just wants to embarrass Trigon, then it'll all be over before we have time to think up a plan."

Richard had been in odd situations with civilians before. They usually screamed, panicked, and inadvertently did everything possible to make his life more difficult. This was… nice. He and Raven had clashed, but now he knew why. He had thought that he knew more about kidnapping situations as Bruce Wayne's heir and as Nightwing, Raven thought she knew more about this situation because of the magic and the other complications.

Richard would pick these two civilians over some superheroes he knew. "What's our first step?"

"Information," Raven said promptly. She tucked Garfield's jacket around her legs and settled back into the corner of the room. "Garfield, you look too nice. Richard, you look like you could hit a girl. If you need me, or if that door opens, pinch me. You'll probably leave a bruise before I know that you're there."

"How are you getting information?" Garfield asked.

"Astral projection," Raven said curtly. "It will take me longer than usual, with most of my powers switched off, but it's completely possible. I can travel anywhere in this building while my body stays right here. It's theoretically possible for me to find my father, but I don't like walking that far from my body. It would be too hard for you to bring me back."

Richard nodded. He had only heard about people sending their souls away from their bodies in theory, but this was a good time to look competent and unruffled. "Do you want me to keep time?"

Raven thought for a moment. "If I'm gone longer than fifteen minutes, watch the door. Something probably went wrong."

"You're sure this is worth the risk?" Garfield asked.

"I'll find out." Raven closed her eyes. "We need to know what we're up against, and just what Slade knows. If he's heard the wrong things…" She shook her head minutely. "Plan for the worst and hope for the best."

Richard didn't say anything more, and Garfield seemed to have the same idea. A minute later, Raven stilled. A solid-black shadow rose to her feet gracefully, leaving the high heels behind in favor of bare feet. The Raven-apparition nodded politely to each of them before stepping into the wall behind her.

"Wicked," Garfield breathed.

At that moment, Richard would have been happy if every last civilian off the street had some kind of superpower. Maybe it would keep them from overreacting to the most basic crime scene. The thought was instantly ruined by the idea of every last civilian off the street having some kind of superpower.

"Plan for the worst, she said. Shall we get to work?" Richard doubted that they could ruin her concentration by speaking, but still pitched his voice to be quieter than usual.

"Hope for the best was the second part mentioned," Garfield said, looking just as cheerful as he had at dinner. "So, starting with the basics… do you have any idea where we are?"


	9. Chapter 9

_Parents mentioned in the chapter are comic (and cartoon) canon. Mark Logan's guitar is the same one mentioned in 99's Cheap Date. Cyborg's personal history is mostly intact, but I did end up making up a middle name for him. (I know how the name is usually spelled; my rationale is that his mother loved poetry.) All science-babble in the first segment is accurate to the best of my abilities, though not at all necessary for understanding the story.  
_

_This chapter happened because of DoctorEvil99 (whose fanfic name is read as a website by ffdotnet, and summarily deleted), TheyCallMeOrange, and Kayasuri-N. They kept me at my current level of (in)sanity, and stray remarks in conversation with RabulaTasa got me on the right track for Jinx's scene. DoctorEvil99 helped flesh out the "Slade is a manipulative jerk" portion of the story.  
_

_Chapters will be delayed during school (my two-credit class takes sixteen hours per week), but they will remain in progress. If you think I'm bad now, just wait until I'm actually in medical school. I'm already accepted into my top choice school, I am going to have an epic case of senioritis, and I can now semi-relax and write some fiction now that part one of a major life goal is set. Happy reading! The next chapter is in progress and in draft.  
_

**Chapter Nine**

**Saturday June 13, 7:40 P.M.**  
Marie Logan loved the office she shared with her husband. This area of the sprawling lab space was a nearly sacred in one respect: absolutely no paperwork was allowed to pass through its doorway. That kept their workspace from becoming hopelessly cluttered, and left the timid interns and rotation workers standing outside the office with papers and forms. It wasn't that Marie didn't like their interns, or didn't want to help them reach their full potential. She simply didn't want gawking workers in her office.

The "no paperwork" rule had started when both of their eight-foot desks had been entirely lost under stacks of articles to be read, fellowships that merited applications, and press about the Logans' work. The solution had been Mark's idea, and had been inspired after some hapless rotation student had nearly stepped through his guitar. Luckily for all concerned, the instrument had survived without a scratch, so the student survived with a warning. The student had been carrying two boxes of fresh paperwork, and hadn't been able to see a thing. Marie had been supervising the latest batch of interns, at the time, or she might have been able to keep the explosion down to an angry simmer. Mark loved that guitar, and any intern that lasted three weeks in the demanding lab quickly learned why. Whenever Mark was stuck on some new aspect of the research, angry, frustrated, or two days out from a deadline, he would play. Half an hour later, he'd return to work with a vengeance.

There was only one part of the office that she didn't like this week. It was her turn to answer their cell phone, and the thing always rang when she was in the middle of some new angle. She was ten minutes away from transferring her new concept for controlled alternative splicing to paper. The idea in her mind was too nebulous to describe just yet. Mark might be able to make out her vague descriptions and accompanying gestures, but it was his turn to supervise a fresh PhD graduate on fellowship. Marie could write out the idea, and the concept would be enough to snag at least the new NSF grant. If the idea worked out half as well as she thought, she could get three grants devoted just to this project… maybe this would interest Garfield. She noted that at the top of her blank sheet of paper, closed her eyes for a moment to picture just what she wanted to accomplish with this latest set of experimental protocols, and began to write.

There were perhaps four figures left in the explanation when the cell phone began to ring. Marie held onto the ideas, and the images of interfering with RNA processing, as she glanced at the caller ID. Victor Stone, perfect. He'd understand.

"Victor, hello!" she greeted. She never ignored a call from Victor. Really, there were several small things she did for her son's best friend, but she would never call attention to the different behavior. Victor had lost his mother in the same explosion that had nearly killed him. Marie and Elinore had been close, as the mothers of best friends often are. If it had been her son left grieving… Marie knew that Elinore Stone would have looked after Garfield. "Can you give me just two minutes, please? Thank you."

"Mrs. Logan—"

"Just two minutes, Victor," she said, her attention already on the figures and explanations. "I'm nearly done, I promise, but I finally have a way to draw out that idea I had last week… if this works half as well as I think, we'll be able to control alternative splicing events in yeast culture DNA processing by December. That includes time to apply for the new NSF grant heading and charm the genetics supervisor into giving me a few new pieces of equipment."

Marie didn't like to keep people waiting, but this idea wouldn't come back. Victor was waiting, but without his usual patience. Marie finished the illustrations quickly, and with much more shorthand than she usually liked in a proposal. She'd just make a neat copy later. "I am sorry about the wait, Victor, but you know how it is." Marie had glanced at the clock to confirm the time, but she hadn't known it was so late. Fifteen to eight? Neither of her boys called in that late. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know where to start, Mrs. Logan."

Marie must have dropped her pencil, because she certainly wasn't holding it anymore. Victor had never sounded so uncertain. "Are you and Garfield alright?"

"I'm fine, and I think Gar's still okay. We were out to dinner at Scheherazade's with Trigon and a representative from Wayne Industries, and this really isn't the way I'd planned to tell you that I have a job offer. Head engineer for a tech start-up, joint venture between Trigon and Wayne."

"You better not turn that down, Victor Eliot Stone, or we'll have words. What happened to Garfield?"

"The Brotherhood of Evil kidnapped Trigon's daughter, Raven. Garfield and the Wayne Industries rep thought her chances might be better if she wasn't alone."

Marie frowned, and allowed several seconds for her mind to process that strange fact. "We know that Garfield has a few options, in any case. Mark and I will keep our eyes open for any ransom demands, extortion attempts, anything like that." Garfield could transform. He didn't like the ability, or the loss in control that came with it, but to protect someone else he would take even his most dangerous form.

"You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would," Victor said cautiously.

Victor couldn't see the way her hand gripped the phone, and didn't know that she was shaking slightly. "I can't control the situation, and can't do much to change it," Marie said frankly. Her voice, at least, was unaffected. "The best that I can do is to find some positive aspect to focus on, and trust that Garfield can take care of himself and others. Perhaps Mark and I should have encouraged his special talents a little more, and…" Marie glanced at her notes, and the small designation at the top. This wasn't going to be the dissertation that earned her son a doctorate. He didn't have the patience to spend months chasing after an elusive nucleoprotein complex, or years of his life inside with no change in scenery. "Well. When Garfield comes home, we'll all have a good talk. Mark and I will expect updates about how your new work is going, Victor."

"You'll have them. I'll call back when I hear something."

Marie erased the note from the top of the new idea. Garfield would be interested in hearing about this latest idea, but it was past time that he found what he really wanted to do for a living. This would be her latest pet project. It just might replace casually meeting all the young female interns, and occasionally fixing them up with Garfield. She had really thought that the young girl from the geology research wing had been the one, but… well. Garfield's messy breakup with Tara Markov's was still legendary. Marie would just have to trust that her son would find his own direction, and his own dates.

Marie stapled the four pages together, labeled them, and put the idea into the top drawer. It would still be there when she came back to work, and this was the kind of conversation she and Mark really should have at home. Something in her expression had drawn him into the office, even from across the lab.

"Marie?"

"Mark, Victor just called. I think it's time to head home for the night." Marie took a deep breath. She had managed to partially distract herself with the pleasant idea of Garfield meeting a girl, but Mark was much more likely to focus on the important detail of 'kidnapped by the Brotherhood of Evil.'

"Bring your guitar."

**Saturday June 13, 7:54 P.M. **

On the other side of Jump City, Jinx was only one hundred yards or so from Mark and Marie Logan's only son. Unfortunately, she was only one yard from Slade.

The situation was not what Jinx had hoped. Slade was doing much better than expected. No major mistakes, no big flaws in wording, and no sign of moving on to his second wish. Jinx was going to run out of batteries before the jerk ran out of ideas.

If she managed to twist events around to her satisfaction, she was going to give Victor Stone a piece of her mind for leaving his jacket unattended on the back of his chair. Informal dealings or not, Slade hadn't had a lick of trouble stealing from him.

He'd made one wish, and that was for her to follow orders like a nice little genie. Jinx was going to find out just how far her powers extended, because she felt tired for the first time in ages. She was still blocking Trigon, Koriand'r, and Raven's powers. If he'd had better goals, Jinx wouldn't block the power. She would be draining those three to the point where a demon-lord, a Tamaranean warrior, and a half-demon weren't any sort of concern. Jinx would be fresh as a daisy, Slade wouldn't have a thing to worry about as far as enemies went, and everybody would be happy (except the trio missing their powers.)

Slade, however, thought that she was an idiot incapable of pulling a rabbit from a hat without a clearly labeled diagram. Jinx didn't plan on enlightening him.

It wasn't likely, but Jinx might have sided with him for a brief period of time. She could have at least edited Slade's game plan to something better than kidnapping. As criminal money making schemes went, it was messy, high-risk, and low-yield. Jinx could have told him about alternate options, but neither Slade nor the Brotherhood of Evil duo wanted her opinions. They wanted her magic.

Something bigger than a kidnapping was going on here. Jinx knew it. Slade was no idiot, and he wasn't out for a ransom. He knew that Trigon would get revenge the instant Raven was safe. If Raven got so much as a paper cut, Jinx wouldn't want to be in the same city. If Raven was hurt, Jinx was switching states. If Slade was stupid enough to kill Trigon's only daughter…

Slade was planning something, because this was not the way that you went after money when you had a genie's bottle in your pocket. Jinx wasn't sure what he was after, but she had a bad feeling about all of this. He had been studying her without a word for the last two minutes, since he'd summoned her without a word. Slade was the ultimate control freak. If he wasn't actively supervising, he liked knowing that she wasn't sabotaging his plans. He had one way to be sure that she wasn't doing anything naughty, and that was making her sit around in bottle-land while he planned for the next stage of his grand whatever—very smart, very annoying, very quickly getting old.

She lasted three minutes of silent scrutiny before interrupting his stare-fest. "So, what do you want now? I went mechanic on an entire company of your creepy robots, I'm tired."

Slade's eye narrowed. "We both know that you do not tire, but I have no immediate task for you. In time, I will ask you to kill someone for me."

"Not tire as in need to sleep, tire as in run out of juice," Jinx corrected warily. He wanted her to kill someone, and he was playing games with the biggest fire-demon out there. Trigon didn't play well with others. "You're an assassin. Why are you farming out your work to me?"

"Killing Trigon the Terrible is no task for a mortal."

Jinx had maybe three seconds to make this work. The first two seconds went to staring at him, blinking, and then staring again. "You do know that he's a demon lord, right? He's a demon lord, I'm a very minor demon that somebody bound to a perfume bottle. You want Trigon killed… tell you what, make wish number two a strong desire for nuclear weaponry and wish three for Trigon to stand very still on the Bikini Atoll."

"Jinn warp the nature of reality in ways that other demons cannot. If you cannot face him directly, you will be able to create circumstances resulting in his death. He cannot be slain by mortal means, but all things can die."

"All things can die, but if I need to kill Trigon…" Jinx shook her head. "We already went over the Bikini Atoll plan and you didn't like it. I'm already too stretched magic-wise. I need all the magic I can get to kill somebody like Trigon, and most of my power is diverted into keeping Trigon and Kore from storming your castle. Another trickle is keeping Trigon's kid from teleporting out or starting to throw things around with her mind. I don't change reality and make everything happen perfectly. I make tiny adjustments that nobody outside my direct influence would notice, and continue to tweak the threads until everything lines up. To have enough power to do start working, I need to release all the blocks, and the instant I release the blocks, Trigon flattens me, because of the slight matter of Trigon outranking me in every way that matters."

His jaw clenched at the conclusion of her increasingly rapid explanation. "Very well," he said, as if addressing a child. "If you are incapable of ending his life, can you share other ways in which he can be removed from this world? Banished?"

"I'm not an exorcist and I'm not with the Ghostbusters," Jinx replied on instinct.

Slade didn't laugh. "Unless you wish to spend the rest of your eternity in that bottle, you will be of some use to me."

Jinx thought that her flinch was hidden behind a furious glare. She had heard the threat before, and was nearly sure that it was impossible for a genie to go forever without someone else finding the bottle, but… it was the worst threat he could make. "I could have helped you before, but you had it all under control. You want to keep everything right in line and right as you say it'll happen, and suddenly you want my input?"

"Trigon is not a creature of this universe. He does not belong here, and is being kept here by artificial means. How can he be sent back?"

"That's a little harsh," Jinx said disapprovingly, already recovered. Slade had figured out the downside of his one trump card. If he played the isolation game, he didn't get any more wishes, either. They were stuck with each other a while longer. "He has his green card same as anybody, as you should know. You know more about Trigon's business than I do, I just know things that pertain to the ways Trigon could squish me if I tried killing him. The element of surprise is out, so I'm not sure how I'd have a shot."

"Tell me, then. A demon cannot normally exist in this world without some type of summoning or anchor, correct?"

"Yes." She had to answer that one simply, since Slade knew the answer. If he hadn't been certain, she would have lied. He hadn't said to tell him honestly, after all, or to tell the truth.

"Someone summoned Trigon here, but needed knowledge of his existence beforehand. There was a prophecy." Slade looked at her, as if she would instantly hop to her feet and begin reciting the exact phrases that would solve his dilemma. "You could produce the prophecy regarding Trigon, if ordered."

"All of the prophecies?" Jinx asked. This, at least, wasn't the time for insolence and teasing. Befuddlement would serve her much better. "I thought you were on a bit of a time crunch, and I'd need to find the things first."

He glared at her, but didn't seem to find the lie. "It is no matter. I know the location of one such set of materials, and the prophecy I require will be among them." Slade had been pacing, but he froze, still looking at her. "Of course, the key to this problem is within this building. Raven has the answers I seek."

"You think she's going to help you? Raven's not exactly the show-and-tell type, and isn't likely to be convinced."

Slade's smile was enough to make Jinx shudder. "I can be persuasive. Should my methods fail, I have you."

"Of course you have me, but you're falling prey to the classic trap of overestimating the genie. Minor demon bound to a perfume bottle, with the gift of warping a few threads of reality, but I can't mess with free will or bring back the dead or take out Trigon in a fair fight."

"You have little appreciation for subtlety, and using the least amount of force needed. Raven herself need not be threatened. She had two companions who so graciously joined her. In face, should she hold out farther than expected, and one companion be lost… one will remain." Slade might have been discussing the weather. "This will work even better than I anticipated."

Jinx looked faintly green. "You can handle that on your own, or with Mallah and Rouge?"

Slade smirked. "The pair have their uses, and they are few. I might trust them to take out the garbage without supervision. I prefer to handle things my business directly." He reached into the pocket of his dark slacks. "There is a library in Jump City. Below the library, there is a long series of passageways. There should be several volumes within. Bring back any books with this mark."

He held out a piece of paper, marked with a broken S. Jinx committed the sign to memory before touching the slip of paper with the strange sigil. Her fingers ghosted through the paper, and the small square of paper burned with pink-tinged flame. Let Slade remember that she was a fire-demon, too.

"Got it," Jinx said. Slade left the control room, and Jinx disappeared in a swirl of sparks as she concentrated. He had said to go to the library and check out a few books, sure, but he'd never said that she had to go _directly _there.

If Jinx had kept her eyes open as she dissolved into the air, she might have seen one of the shadows in the far corner of the control room disappear into the floor.


	10. Chapter 10

_A quick reminder of comic book history I am using: Richard Grayson (the show's likely Robin) was the first to be Robin. Bruce Wayne is Batman. Tim Drake is the current Robin; Richard Grayson is Nightwing._

_I will make a sincere effort to update more frequently, but I can't make fiction a priority at this point. I do have rest of the plot set, but it's a matter of writing several consecutive action scenes that describe exactly what I've pictured. Writing is a break from the rest of my life, and it will have to stay that way for a while yet. Thanks for staying with the story._

**Chapter Ten **

**Saturday June 13, 8:00 P.M. **  
Richard Grayson didn't have a plan, and all he could think was that Bruce would have found a way to make this work.

Richard had a few ideas, but he and Garfield were having no luck figuring out which idea might be start of a strategy. They had both scoured the cell and found no traps or surveillance. Garfield had admitted enhanced senses, and there was no logical way to affirm or disprove the statement. Richard's tentative ideas relied on a green lab technician's claim that he could take care of Mallah. If Garfield further claimed that he could smell common electrical components after so much time helping Victor with projects… Richard would take it on faith. Bruce could explain the logical approach later.

The real problem with edging their scattered ideas toward a cohesive plan was that neither he nor Garfield was giving the reasons behind the more impractical solutions. Richard said that he would fight Slade, but he could only give broad hints about martial arts training that sounded nothing like a justification for hand-on-hand with a very famous assassin. Garfield hadn't done much more than reiterate his claim that he could fight Mallah. Raven had yet to return from some bit of magic Richard didn't fully understand, but at least had a reason for her promise to deal with Rouge.

Richard couldn't tell a civilian that he was Nightwing, or even that he had a secret identity. "I used to be Robin" gave too many hints about the others' secret identities, and so would "When I say I can fight Slade, I mean that I have fought Batman to a draw." It had been just one time, when Bruce hadn't known that he was taking grappling lessons on the side, but it was more than most people would ever manage.

Garfield was more open about having some kind of power, but stubbornly avoided any line of conversation about precisely what that power was or what his limits were.

By an unspoken agreement, their plans were vague. The door's lock wasn't electronic, probably because the complex was built with metahumans in mind. Old-fashioned lock picking wouldn't be as common as metas that could short an electrical system with no effort. It worked to their benefit. Richard said he should be able to pick the lock with one of Raven's hairpins. He said nothing about the professional-grade lockpicks sewn into the hem of his shirt, and silently apologized for calling Bruce unreasonably paranoid.

They didn't think there were bugs on the cell, but they had already lost their phones and just might lose any other item that seemed helpful.

If they did decide to escape from the cell, and didn't trigger alarms or traps… there was no information, but Garfield had caught on quickly when Richard talked him through possible scenarios.

Richard was running out of possibilities to distract them both when Raven returned, with none of her earlier grace. Her shadow rose out of the floor with a sense of barely controlled urgency, and quickly slid back into her body.

"No one is within hearing range, but I have reason to believe that Slade will be soon," Raven said rapidly. Her words were precisely enunciated even in her rush. "Do you have a possible scenario that ends with us getting out of this room, and then the complex?"

"What happened?" Garfield asked, offering her a hand. She accepted, but only for the instant it took her to rise.

Raven was pacing barefoot as soon as she was on her feet. "Slade knows more than I thought. He knows that I am half-demon, yes, but he knows that there were prophecies about me. If he gets his hands on the true one, and causes that prophecy to begin, he could accidentally destroy the world. If the prophecy does not come to full fruition, then it will send my father back home, or maybe pull other demons here." It may or may not kill her, depending on how the texts were read, but her father was in no condition to combat demons. He hadn't been in a serious fight for years, and with a jinn binding his powers… he would be killed, no matter which came to pass.

"When you say destroy the world…" Richard said.

"I mean 'the end of all things mortal,'" she quoted. Raven shook her head. "I don't have time to explain, and I don't know who else is listening. Slade means to get the prophecy out of me by torturing the two of you. We need to move. If we don't manage to leave, then I will. I can stay away by astral projection. If I'm not here, then he won't know the prophecy, and will have to wait for me to return to have any hope of retrieving the contents."

"We don't have a plan," Richard said. He had to trust his instincts, and they said that she was telling the truth and that Garfield was on their side. He had good allies here. "Our plan is that we break out of this room, then find our way out."

"The hallways in this place twist, but it's a pretty straight shot to the main control room if you make a right," Raven said. "From the control room, the exit is on the other side, down a short corridor with bare metal walls. There are large doors that open into some sort of warehouse district. There's a back door to the left, but the turns are more complicated."

"What happens if we need to split up?" Richard asked. "We might find trouble. We shouldn't all be alone, but I'd do better if I were on my own. I'm not used to fighting with either of you."

Raven eyed Garfield for a moment. "I think Garfield and I could improvise quickly."

"I don't have much control, if we're really in trouble," Garfield admitted. This wasn't the time for details, but they had to know the basics. "My parents call it going Beast. I get really big and really good at fighting, but not so great with the verbal reasoning and communication skills."

There wasn't time for questions. Even from across the base, Raven could feel the sharpness of Slade's emotions. "We'll improvise, Garfield," she repeated. "You will be okay, Richard?"

"I've done this before," Richard said, tugging the lockpicks out of the lining of his shirt. The loose stitches broke apart when he pulled sharply. "I'll start on the door."

Raven took a hair tie from the inside hem of her dress. She ignored Garfield's surprised look. She and Kore liked to go flying, and sometimes one's hair just got in the way. She held out her hand and _pulled_. The shoes wobbled, slightly, but remained firmly on the ground. She glared, and formed a flat shield beneath the shoes with a decisive chopping motion. When the heels rose to her hand on the flat black disc of energy, she allowed herself a satisfied smile.

Garfield tried and failed to hide a very confused expression. "Um, Raven?"

"I'm not wearing them, if that's what you're asking," she said. "I might be using them, depending on how well shields work against robots. Richard, be careful. If the jinn was using the standard definition of company, there are one hundred of Slade's robots somewhere in the base, to add to Mallah, Rouge, and Slade." Raven weighed one of the shoes in her hand. "I'm only going to be doing this one-handed. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. Want a weapon until you find something better?"

Richard only paused for a second. Tim was going to give him heck for this, he knew it, but if it meant he could take out more opponents before finding a weapon… "This'll be a new one." He took the shoe, which had a better weight than expected. The heel felt as if it had a metal core.

"So, what's the plan?" Garfield asked. "Just so we're all on the same page."

"Get out, stay together as long as possible, make for the exit, and then head for the Milton Hotel on 59th Street," Raven said. "My father is staying there, in room 808. He can help plan the next step."

"The next step… jinn," Richard said. He was beginning to understand why Bruce avoided the supernatural whenever possible. Any kind of magic made any plans turn into a sketchy mess. "I like it. You and Garfield stay together if we split. I've done some good work alone."

"Like picking the lock," Garfield said, glancing at the item in question. "It's nearly there, I can hear it."

Garfield looked resolved, and ready to do take on anything. Raven looked calm, but with undertones of a devastating competence. If Richard was going to do this, he couldn't pick a better pair of strangers.

He turned the lock pick just so, feeling out the last tumbler. It was ready to go.

"Alright, leaving the room in three… two…"

**Saturday June 13, 8:00 P.M.**  
Jinx had meant to just speak to Victor. He had information she could use, and it was only fair to give a heads-up about Garfield.

Victor Stone was having a conversation with someone, which was unexpected, and he was on the eighth floor of the Milton Hotel instead of being in his own apartment, which was just odd. Jinx didn't know who else was in that room, but if they didn't know about jinn they wouldn't see her and wouldn't hear her. Victor would just need to excuse himself sharpish to avoid looking insane by talking to a phantom. There was not one bit of demonic protocol standing between her and speaking her mind.

"Victor Eliot Stone, what did I tell you about watching the bottle!"

Jinx didn't quite rage as she made her entrance, but she managed a very impressive high dudgeon. She waited a full two seconds for the response before fully noticing her surroundings.

She had granted a wish for Victor, and that was enough to give her a link to the man. She could find him, even when he was in the middle of a posh hotel room, and in the company of Trigon the Terrible and his cheerful Tamaranean assistant. Jinx had turned to see just why Victor was staring. Prompted by Trigon's immensely displeased expression, she began talking in the next instant.

"Trigon, sir, this actually saves quite a bit of time," Jinx said, quickly enough to make an auctioneer take notice. She could feel his powers flare, and knew that Kore had an upsurge of righteous fury and the urge to attempt to take out the genie to lessen Slade's power. If both of them were angry enough at the same time, even a jinn wouldn't be able to hold onto their power for long. They would definitely save Garfield, Raven, and Richard, but that would probably happen after they flattened her. "I'm on your side, here, but Slade got around Rule One by being a manipulative son of a bitch. Simon-says clause strikes again to make 'three wishes' a bit of a guideline, and the man talks like a lawyer. The only upside is that he thinks he thinks I'm an idiot, and never clarifies demands so well as the first wish."

"Tell me the pertinent details, jinni," Trigon growled.

Jinx did, for once in her life. Demons that lived to make Trigon any angrier didn't live much longer. "Slade wouldn't do this unless he thought he could get away with it. He stole my bottle from Victor at the dinner, then made a deal with the Brotherhood of Evil. The Brotherhood had been planning to kidnap Raven, and would have failed utterly. They didn't know about you, Raven, or Kore. Now, Slade's calling the shots, and the other two aren't happy about it. He sent me out to find the prophecy. I threw him off the scent by playing stupid and making him think there are scads of prophecies, but Slade knows there is a prophecy linking Raven to… you know," Jinx said, gesturing vaguely. There was only one prophecy, and she and Trigon both knew it. "He's planning to torture it out of Raven. Not by touching her," she continued quickly, "but by using the other two against her. I was going to get Victor to tell me where the library is and where you were staying, this is much more efficient."

"Why those two pieces of information?"

"I'm supposed to go to the library and find information. I'll pretend that I searched for ages and dug up the information. If you can help me come up with a misleading prophecy on the spot, I can work with it. If not, we could always try the classic double-team."

"What is the double-team?" Kore asked.

"Storm in the back, throw the bottle at Victor, wish Slade's wish and all following orders were null and void, and we're in business. I can take care of the rest from there." Jinx handed Kore a very neat map of Jump City, with the HIVE headquarters marked out. She looked less likely to murder on contact than Trigon. "I haven't found blueprints for the base yet, but the doors open up pretty easily. The code is still 4483—H-I-V-E, on a touch-tone phone."

Trigon's glare was impressive, even when it couldn't do anything. Jinx knew it couldn't do anything, because she was the one that was blocking his powers, and still felt the urge to sidle back a few feet. "I don't trust you."

"Vaporize me later if this doesn't help," Jinx offered impatiently. "I don't have time to convince you. Do you have a fake prophecy? A misleading prophecy? Something? The only one I know about is very legitimate, and would make Slade very happy. 'The gem was born of Trigon's fire' is kind of obvious, you think? Plus, I already know the real sucker, so I can't play very stupid if he asks the right question about prophecies and thinks to add 'be honest' again, or say it without an implied condition attached.

"I've been lucky. He assumes that I'm stupid, as mentioned, and that I wouldn't work against him just because he won round one with the mentioned wish. As soon as I have the chance, I'm going to work more directly against him as much as I can as long as I can. Don't tell me what Raven can do, don't tell me how well she can look after herself, because I barely know a thing about her powers and as such I can't block her very well."

Jinx tried to say everything else with a look. It was a very communicative look, really, because it was part 'I'm on your side' and part 'Work with me, here' and part 'Throw me a line' with just a bit of 'You're definitely not going to squish me when this all is over, right? Because I'm being as helpful as possible right now' thrown in for good measure.

It seemed to work. Kore was on her side, Victor had already believed her, and Trigon didn't say a word. He took a piece of blank paper from his briefcase. "You can't remove any books from the library," he said. "Not without initiating the prophecy's full lead-in. You don't really understand it, but from what you saw messing with the books that way would start a long drawn-out process. You're going to go to the library and copy down random passages, anything with the mark of Scath on it. Slade knows enough to recognize that, and he'll believe it's central to the prophecies." Trigon set the sheet of paper on the hotel suite's desk, with a pen beside it.

"This," he continued, "is Scath." Trigon set a document on the desk, where a strange symbol was prominent. "Jinx, if you would? Please copy the letter, so it will seem like your work, and the new prophecy, as it was given by Trigon. You have heard the original in its entirety?"

"Yes."

Trigon frowned. "Not directly from me, though. This is the prophecy concerning Trigon's child that you heard directly from him—that's the proper frame of mind to make it a mite more convincing."

Jinx didn't interrupt. Trigon was deciding to trust her, and perhaps to not smite her to ribbons when all this mess was over. She wasn't going to mess with a good thing when she had it. If he was going to state the obvious, she was going to let him state the obvious until they were back in a comfortable relationship. While he had covered the basics, she had sketched out a very credible mark of Scath with a conjured fountain pen. Slade could guess that basic black ballpoint wasn't her style.

Something in Trigon's posture shifted, and Jinx could believe that he was intoning a true prophecy, not a sham created in an attempt to save his daughter.

_The gem was born of evil's fire  
The gem shall be the portal.  
The gate will open, twist the gyre  
To bring the demons to the mortal._

Jinx had written the words down as he spoke. She finished just moments after he did, and studied her transcription. She had chosen to do the entire work in bright pink ink to annoy Slade, but to see those words in such an innocuous color…

"Well," Jinx said, when no one else spoke. "Thank you. That's much better than anything I would have made."

Trigon had already diverted his attention to the map Jinx had drawn. Kore relinquished it readily. "It's a true prophecy," he said. "It will give him no useful information, and runs close enough to the original wording to stoke his memory and make him believe it to be the first wording, but those words all are true."

"I'll zip to the library, then," Jinx said, coming to a decision. "I'll copy down some misleading things that I thought were prophecies, remember that I heard you say this nonsense pair of couplets once… no offense meant, but I'm getting this believable to Slade. I can try to get information to Raven and the others, or at least get information back. I think Raven saw Slade's information-gathering session, so she knows what he's up to."

"You think?" Trigon asked, starting to look angry again. That couldn't be good for his blood pressure, or her chances at continuing to exist with all parts attached and in order.

"I don't know if she can astrally project or do weird things like that, and I don't want to know, because I'm blocking her powers. I can't block her powers if I don't know about them," Jinx said, flashing warning glances at Trigon and Kore. "I knew about both of you, and there wasn't a whole lot I could pull there. Tamaranean powers are pretty straightforward, but you're still pretty dangerous given a weapon, yeah? As for you, Trigon, I'll try to give a warning if Slade gets stupid again. He's going to drain me dry before deigns to make a second wish, and if I get that tapped out, I bet you could break straight through my blocks on power."

"The library isn't marked on your map," Kore said. "Would you like assistance in locating it?"

Victor glanced at careful schematic of the city. "It's here. I've never seen anything like what you're talking about in the library, but…"

"Under the library," Trigon said. "Don't bother with the stairway or any of the chambers. Look at a few books, find some likely-looking passages, find something that strikes your memory."

"What's your…" Jinx hesitated. "It might be better if I don't know your plan, actually." She could turn into a liability at any time. "I'll check back in with information, but it might be better if we were more one-sided from here on out."

"How would we be able to tell if you were on orders or giving false information?" Trigon asked.

"Besides my naturally expressive self and my gift for bending the rules in any given situation?" Jinx shook her head. "I think you'll be able to tell, but any signs that I'd give would probably come out, too, and…"

"I think we'd be able to tell," Victor said. "If he told you to just act like yourself, you would still be different."

"That's the best we have," Trigon said. "Sounds like you're still with us, Stone. Jinx, do you need anything else?"

"I've got it. Library, then Slade, then playing it by ear." Understanding the dismissal, she disappeared, taking the sheet of paper with her.

Trigon moved to the next order of business. "Kore, we have phone calls to make. Stone, are you familiar with the area of town shown on the map?"

"Moderately."

"Good start. Are you familiar with hacking?"

"Not that I'd admit to in a court of law, but would you like the blueprints of the surrounding buildings and the base itself in a hologram or a PDF file?"

Trigon smiled thinly. At the end of the day, jinn or no, he was still going to hire that man.

**Saturday June 13, 8:06 P.M.**  
"…one," Richard finished.

That was when it all went to hell in a hand basket.

Later, there was time for Raven to dissect exactly what had happened in the next few seconds. Richard had pulled the door open, they all paused for half a second listening for any obvious alarms, and then the three of them exited the cell ready for trouble.

They found trouble within three seconds, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that trouble had found them.

Their first obstacle was immediately apparent. There must have been some kind of silent alarm, because Mallah was charging towards them from the left. He roared at the sight of three prisoners in the hallway. Richard and Raven snapped into combat-ready stances.

Garfield took a deep breath, and looked at both of them for half a moment with something wild in his eyes.

"I've got it, wish I had time to save my pants for later, but… go!" he yelled.

Garfield started growing in the next instant, and his odd remark about pants suddenly gained context. Every stitch of clothing on him shredded as he grew to proportions to match Mallah, and the giant ape-carnivore-wolf-something behemoth charged forward to meet Mallah.

Raven and Richard glanced at each other. "I'll stay with him like we planned, if you find a way out take it and get help," Raven said. Even as she spoke, the hallway began to flash red from the alarm lights beside each of the hall's surveillance cameras. With a pneumatic hiss, two doorways slid open. Both Raven and Richard could see the gathered forces of robotic henchman moving toward those two narrow exits.

"I've got the one on the left," Raven yelled, already running toward it. Richard didn't waste any time asking if she was sure. He sprinted for the second door, and then her focus was on the robots. Only two could fit in the doorway at a time, so she just had to destroy them faster than they could leave to outflank her.

She figured out just which of her powers were available as she went, and flicked infrequent glances toward the left. Garfield-as-Beast was still okay, and he was driving Mallah back. A fast glance to the right showed that Richard was doing just as admirably. Raven hadn't known you could decimate a robotic army with a single stiletto heel.

Raven relied mainly on her shields, slashing one through a robot before opening the shield abruptly. The bent planes of energy were strong enough to break through the robot's internal circuitry, and to send it crashing to the floor. She could even use the technique on multiple robots at a time, speeding up the fight. The problem was that the robots were rapidly piling up in the entrance.

When there were enough of them, she shoved them backwards and up. The resulting pile of robot components was enough to block the door for at least a minute, and it gave her time to try the lit buttons on the control pad next to the doorway. The keypad's functions were labeled clearly, and the 'emergency shut' valve worked just as advertised. She knew that the doors could open again, when someone realized the change, but she had time for a little teamwork. She ran to Richard's entrance to clear the robots that were in his way, sweeping the broken pieces of metal aside. He acknowledged her help with a nod, and she settled a few feet back from him. He had the fight down to an art, and knew exactly which parts of the robots to hit to disable them. With a few, he hit what must have been the fuel tank even as he kicked them backwards. She only needed a visual line on the robots, so she stayed back and disabled the robots that hadn't yet made it into the doorway.

Raven only broke their pattern when there were only eight or so left. "Go," she said. "They think we'll be busy here for a while, and Garfield's fight is nearly over."

"Are you sure we should split up?"

"You can handle yourself on the way out, and someone needs to stay for Garfield. Find my father and tell him where we are, and he'll do the rest." She ignored the fact that his powers were completely blocked, from what the genie had said. Quite a few people owed Trigon favors. Raven smashed through the last of the robots with a particularly vicious attack, and waited a few seconds. When she saw no motion, she shut the second doorway.

Richard hadn't moved.

"If all goes well, we'll follow you straight out when Garfield's done with his fight," she promised. "You have the better chance of getting out. Go."

Richard finally nodded, and ran down the hall much faster than she would have managed. She was barefoot, and beyond that she had a sleeveless evening gown with Garfield's suit-jacket over it. Still, she had a few potential tricks up her metaphorical sleeves. She made her way down the hallway, methodically destroying each camera in sight as she made her way toward the fight. It seemed that Garfield was winning, but that would only lead to the issue she hadn't quite worked out yet when it came to "Beast."

Really big, check. Really good at fighting, check. "Not so great with the verbal reasoning and communication skills," and now she had a problem. How was she going to improvise a plan when he couldn't exactly collaborate? He might not understand English in this state of mind, and her other three languages weren't likely to be much help.

Sometime, Raven was going to let herself wonder her two allies. Garfield hadn't been surprised to change into Beast. Richard knew more about battlefield etiquette and fighting than martial arts classes would teach.

Garfield had been right about his chances in a fight with Mallah. Raven stayed back, as she would be little help in a very physical battle between two very large components, and she watched as Beast-Garfield hit Mallah against a wall. This time, Mallah slid to the floor and didn't get up again. She was mostly sure that the blow wouldn't have severely injured the gigantic gorilla, but didn't have time to check. She had more important considerations in mind. Mainly, she needed to try coaxing the green behemoth into leaving with her, even when she could feel his emotions as a disorienting swirl of anger and aggression.

"Garfield?" she said politely, when he didn't acknowledge her after a minute passed. He seemed to be checking that his opponent was unconscious, but she couldn't read any forms of curiosity. She only felt a dulled satisfaction from him.

The very large, very green animal turned toward her, and Raven started to wonder if she should have had a plan beyond "improvise" in place.


	11. Chapter 11

_Enjoy the chapter, folks, because if this story moves the way that I hope it will I can finish it and we all can move on with our lives. With the current outline, I'll be done in three or four chapters. Feedback is always appreciated. At the moment, it feels like I'm finishing this for the sake of finishing it, but I have enjoyed writing this story._

**Chapter Eleven**

**Saturday June 13, 8:08 P.M.**  
There was always time for recon, Jinx's favorite teacher at the HIVE Academy had always said. The Headmistress hadn't led her wrong before, so Jinx made a slow approach from the outside of the base. There weren't any outright signs of trouble, of course, but the keypad by the main entrance told her everything she needed to know.

The four red lights down the outer edge were all lit. Jinx forced herself to take the extra time to _think _before rushing in blindly. She punched in the long string of numbers needed to access a full status report. This was a four-light emergency, but that could mean any number of things. She tapped her foot impatiently as the small screen above the numbers showed the slow crawl of text. Containment breach, full alert, system lockdown, guards deployed. Slade had his creepily narcissistic robots out, then, and someone had found a way out of the holding cell. Raven-and-Garfield-and-Richard would be moving for the exit if they had any sense, but all of the exits were locked.

A second series of numbers fixed the last problem. Any of the doors in the facility would open or close freely. That was the most help she could offer at the moment.

She would deal with Slade first, because he would definitely be heading toward the containment breach if he weren't there already. Jinx closed her eyes. That was a completely unnecessary habit, but she'd only been a jinni for nine years. It helped to not watch the world shift around her when she moved around this way. Slade had been carrying the bottle full time. It was harder for him to lose it that way, but that meant she had no chance of losing _him. _Jinx appeared at Slade's side in the next moment.

Of course, he managed to look unsurprised. His only warning had been a slight flare of pink, but he turned to face her as if he had been waiting for her in that particular stretch of empty hallway. "Jinn. You have the prophecy?"

Really, he could at least switch the letter on the end and address her by name. "I have the prophecy as it was said by Trigon himself, you can at least look a little happy." She held out a fan of papers with a flourish. "I couldn't check out any library books without kicking off the prophecy in weird ways that don't stop for anything, but I have the full text."

He took the papers with absolutely no ceremony. If he had done it with less dignity, she could have said he had snatched them out of her hand like a grabby five-year-old. "This is precisely what Trigon said?" Slade said, tapping her transcription of the false prophecy.

"Exactly," Jinx promised. "The gem was born of evil's fire, the gem shall be the portal. The gate will open, twist the gyre to bring the demons to the mortal," she recited when he didn't look convinced. Prophecies always seemed to hold more weight when said aloud.

Slade's scowl only deepened as compared her words to the transcript. Jinx waited, very patiently, and was very thankful that Richard chose to peer cautiously around a corner after two minutes with no sounds from Slade or Jinx. He ducked back before Slade looked away from the paper, so Jinx kept biding her time.

"Just what does this mean?" Slade finally growled.

"If you made that a wish, I might be able to come up with something. As it is, I'm pretty dangerously low on juice here. Trigon and Kore aren't exactly easy to hold back, and Raven gets more difficult when she gets more emotional. She's the odd duck to get more dangerous when she's ticked off."

The permanent lines around his lost eye deepened, but he didn't make any of the usual signs that would accompany an imminent wish. "Very well. I will research this on my own." He stalked back toward the control room without giving her any further direction.

Jinx walked the opposite direction until she found a convenient alcove, and knocked quietly on an adjacent section of wall. "I'm on your team, Richard, let's chat for a minute."

He regarded her warily from the impromptu hiding place, not that she was at all bothered. She was immaterial, not that people ever paid attention, and he had no way of harming her. Still, her glance slipped to the weapon he was carrying. Apparently it had served its use well, because the shoe was very badly dented, but his stalwart weapon remained a lady's shoe.

"Want an upgrade, Cinderella? Pick your poison and I'll see what I can get." It took no more energy than breathing to create flurries of pink sparks around her fingers.

"I know Slade favors a bo staff, when he's not shooting."

"Silver cylinder deal that Slade has on his belt, right next to the tied-on leather pouch with a pink glass genie bottle?" she asked brightly. This wasn't the time to debate terminology, everybody knew a genie's bottle when they saw one but not everyone could read the good translation of _Arabian Nights. _

He nodded. Apparently, Richard took much more encouragement to move out of the skeptical-looks stage.

Jinx neatly stripped away a long rectangle of metal from the nearest wall. Conjuring was entirely past her, at this point, but she could still shift things around with the best of them. Ten seconds later, she held out a perfectly functional cylinder-thing about the length of her forearm.

Richard promptly extended it into a six-foot pole, but it was much better that they worked out any issues in workmanship immediately.

When he didn't say anything, Jinx decided to keep the program moving. "Slade's in the control room looking up information on a fake prophecy. The exit is straight through, labeled neatly because even villains have building codes. At this point, I could grab you and stick you somewhere safe, but then Slade could make me bring you back… it's better to finish this. Fine the bright pink bottle, open it, and we're home free. First thing you'll wish is for all of Slade's wishes and orders to be null and void."

"You're on our side?"

"Well, mostly. Technically I'm on the side of whoever is carrying the bottle, but I play favorites and you win because I want Slade to take a long walk on a short pier over wet concrete."

He half-smiled, but didn't comment about her metaphorical statement of dislike. Jinx was pretty sure it was metaphorical, at least. She didn't have the patience to deal with all the prep work it would require.

"Thanks," Richard said, gesturing with the staff.

Jinx smiled at the addition of manners. If she wasn't mistaken, they were in business. "I don't want the world to end any more than you do, and I definitely don't want Trigon to get any madder." Raven had told them about that, right? Maybe. Richard didn't look surprised.

"Good luck."

He was hopelessly earnest and type-hero, but she liked him anyway. "Same to you. Kick Slade's ass for me?"

Okay, maybe she really liked him—that smirk promised that Slade would get what was coming to him. He saluted with the staff before he headed for the control room. She headed for the two wayward ex-prisoners.

**Saturday June 13, 8:12 P.M.**  
Raven stared up at the giant green gorilla-wolf-lion-thing. She had met several of her father's associates before, but it was very different to meet a twenty-foot-tall demon with purple skin and a putridly orange business suit. It didn't hurt at all that Trigon happened to be extremely protective of her, and she was a little inexperienced when it came to fighting. She had finally convinced Kore to spar with her, but it had taken an entire year to work those sessions into anything physically strenuous.

She definitely didn't have experience being on her own with something that was much larger, and didn't have a game plan for something that looked at her with no hint of comprehension or intelligence. "Garfield, we really should have discussed details."

The dark eyes of the Garfield-creature focused on her, and she felt the faintest stirrings of curiosity behind some impenetrable tangle of simple emotions that flared dark when she drew on her empathy. "I should have mentioned that I'm not great with animals, and that my entire body of knowledge on animal psychology and appropriate body language comes out of books."

Raven's voice was as flat as always, but he didn't seem to mind. Beast had settled back, listening intently, and that gave her the courage to move closer. "Maybe you'll come with me? We need to head out of here, Garfield."

She closed her eyes to focus on the extra sense better. If there was any rage in that knotted snarl of emotions, it was so mixed in with confusion and nameless emotions that it was no immediate threat. She had never felt those emotions from anyone, before, but she would guess that they indicated a relaxed state of mind.

She opened her eyes to find a very large hand-paw with larger nails a bit closer than she would have desired. She watched the claw-tips very carefully, but the pads of the hand-paw stopped half a foot away from her. Raven laid her hand against one of the fingers, to be polite, before meeting Beast's eyes again. "We need to get out of here. Come with me."

When she walked away, there were a few moments of silence before she heard the quiet footfalls start behind her.

Raven was sure that she had never looked stranger in her life. Kore had coaxed her into wearing a bright red dress that really hadn't been designed for stealth, Raven had already abandoned her remaining shoe, and she was still wearing Garfield's coat. The day had started out promisingly enough, but this was not her ideal Saturday night.

She wasn't at all surprised when Madame Rouge stepped into the hallway in front of them.


End file.
